


Les Sauveurs

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: The Insufferables [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Relationship, Asexual polyamory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Super Soldiers, impossibly cute animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: Another wounded warrior comes to the Garrison, and Aramis meets a troubled young wife whom he suspects is in an abusive marriage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The wounded warrior of the summary is an original male character.
> 
> This is *not* an Annamis story.
> 
> There is reference with some very lightly graphic details to child abuse, and to false accusations of same. There is also some violence, but without graphic descriptions of blood or gore.
> 
> However, there is also fluff, puppies, teasing and cuddling.

At Antoine’s nod, Aramis blew the whistle. “Jacques! Jean-Paul! Time to stop.” He held up his wrist and tapped his watch. The two teenagers helping the adults with the football camp immediately stopped running and began to gather the younger kids around them. Shortly afterwards, the kids trailed towards the end of the ground where their parents and nannies waited for them.

“Good work today,” Antoine said, clapping Aramis on the shoulder. “See you on Wednesday, yes?”

“Yes. The morning only though, don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

Aramis walked off toward the carpark, which was behind where the kids were meeting their parents. One of the youngster stepped out to talk to him. “ _Monsieur_ Aramis, I had a good time, thank you.”

Surprised and gratified, Aramis grinned. “Thank you, Louis-Phillipe. Don’t forget to thank Coach when you see him.”

“I will!”

The boy ran back to the crowd, and a young blonde woman bent to give him a hug. Aramis smiled politely at her as he passed, not intending to talk to her, but she smiled back and clearly wanted to say something. “May I help you, _madame_?”

“I just wanted to thank you, _monsieur_. Louis-Phillipe hasn’t had this much fun in months.”

“You’re welcome, although I’m just an assistant. Antoine Legrand is the coach. I don’t remember seeing Louis-Phillipe at football sessions during the term.”

“Oh, we’re new." She held out her hand. “Ana d’España. We’ve just bought a house here. Louis-Phillipe will start at the school in September.”

“Aramis d’Herblay,” he said, taking a hand as fine and delicate as her features. She was startlingly lovely, even to him, a man who lived with three women who would all be considered beautiful by normal standards. But where Elodie, and occasionally Juliette, reminded him of shy forest creatures, all eyes and nerve, Madame d’España was more like a blue-eyed kitten. The kind of cossetted pedigree kitten, fed on salmon and organic chicken, whose photos were passed around on Facebook like visual confetti.  “Then I might end up working with him. I volunteer at the after-school sessions three days a week. He likes football?”

Madame d’España smiled down at her son. “Do you like football, Louis?”

“No, _maman_. I _love_ football!”

“That was his father’s joke,” she explained. “But it’s true nonetheless.”

Aramis laughed. “Well, then I shall certainly see him if he feels that way. Nice to meet you, _madame_.”

“And you, _monsieur_. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“No, I’m visiting a friend of ours in Paris who’s just had twins. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Twins, my goodness. I hope she’s having a long rest before taking them home.”

“I’m certain she is,” Aramis said, smiling at the thought of Constance making the most of her time in hospital. “Good day.”

It had been a satisfying day working with energetic and enthusiastic children. Life-affirming, in fact. But still he felt the pull towards his home, his brothers, and the garden. Every day he needed to refresh himself in the waters of love and life he found there. Every day, a new beginning, a chance for his soul to renew, to heal.

Juliette was in the garden, weeding, when he came home just before five. He touched her shoulder to reconnect, and she smiled. “Good, now I can stop,” she said.

“You’ve left me nothing to do.”

“I don’t think so. Also, I have a list of things the boss wants for his cooking.”

“I can deal with that. Why don't you take a break and I’ll bring you a drink?”

“All right.”

She went off to wash her hands under the tap. He waved to d’Artagnan over by the shed, and caught sight of Porthos sawing a piece of timber for some repair he must be planning. Porthos saw him and waved, then made a drinking gesture. Cold drinks all round, then.

Athos was in the kitchen, poring over recipes. Aramis patted his shoulder and kissed his hair. “Busy?”

“Thinking, that’s all. Good day?”

“Yes, it was. The workers are demanding replenishment, and so am I.” He poured himself a glass of water. Ah, now, that was good.

“There’s lemon and lime water in the big jug,” Athos said, standing. “You take that and the mugs, I’ll bring some food. Garden?”

“Yes.”

“Meet you up there.”

Aramis called d’Artagnan and Porthos’s name as he walked across the courtyard, and by the time he reached the garden again, they were both there, ready to take the tray of mugs and drink from him. Athos wasn’t far behind, and had made both cake and pastries for them all. “I let Elodie know,” he said, “but she’s busy.”

“I’ll take some down to her in a bit,” Juliette said. She sat on the grass and stared at the merciless July sky. “Any chance it’ll rain?”

“I wish,” Athos said.

“We all wish,” d’Artagnan agreed.

“Maybe later this week,” Aramis said, though without much conviction.

“How was your day?” Porthos asked. “With the little blight...darlings.” D’Artagnan grinned. They all had to mind their language now.

“It was fun. The children enjoyed it and I felt they learned a lot too.”

“Don’t let them rope you into more than you can handle, my friend,” Athos warned. “A talented footballer who’ll work for free? They must think all their Christmases have come at once.”

“I've been firm with them,” Aramis said. “There’s too much to do here, and between the camps and the church, I’m spending enough time away from you all.” He ruffled Athos’s hair. “I missed you.”

Athos smirked and made no move to smack his hand away. Juliette just rolled her eyes. She understood their unusual bond, even if she didn’t, herself—very often—feel the same need. “Our new guest will be here on Sunday. Nichol Gallande. Green Beret Lieutenant Commander, had his unit mown down in a surprise raid. Five dead, the rest badly injured. He suffered a shattered femur and internal injuries and is still recuperating from both. Been in the military as long as Porthos, at the end of his rope. Needs time to recover physically and mentally.”

“Are you going to put him in the house or the cabin?” Aramis asked.

“Wherever he feels safest. Speaking of which, Juliette, Sylvie asked if you might teach her some self-defence moves. She’s still having these nightmares of being forced to watch her father being killed, and thought if she was actually prepared to fight back against an attacker, it might take some of the power away from the dreams.”

Juliette’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t mind. But it might be better if one of you men did it. Defeating a woman, however well-trained, won’t have the force that it would if she could throw Aramis across a room.”

“Hey,” Aramis said, reaching for a piece of cake. “You don’t need to make it sound so appealing.” She smiled.

“That’s a point,” Athos said. “Is Elodie interested in learning?”

“Elodie L’Archer and her scary as shit crossbow?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Point,” Athos admitted.

“I’ll ask,” Juliette said. “It _might_ be something you could ask Captain Gallande to do. Depending on his temperament and so on. It’s the kind of activity which will help him feel useful but shouldn’t bring back memories.”

Athos looked at Aramis. “Thoughts?”

Aramis knew why his brother had asked _him_ about this. “I wouldn’t generalise to all women, but Sylvie and Elodie, yes, it could be good. They don’t present in a threatening manner.”

“Are you implying I do?” Juliette said, glaring at him.

“Not at all,” he said in a fake quaver, holding up his hands. “I’m n-not sc-scared of you at all.”

“Arse.”

“Cake?” he replied, offering her the plate. She took a piece and shook her head at him.

“This is all something we can work out later,” Athos said.

Aramis lay back on the grass, his head on Porthos’s thigh. It was tempting to go to sleep here in the shade.

“I miss Baudelaire,” d’Artagnan said.

“I miss Pascal,” Aramis said.

“I miss them both,” Athos said.

“We need a new dog,” Porthos said.

“Are we going to let Nichol train him?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Let’s wait and see,” Athos said. “The poor man has been badly injured and already we’re planning things for him to do. There’s no hurry for another dog.”

“Not with the geese and the attack cats,” Aramis said, grinning at Juliette. “Where are the terrible two?”

She kicked his foot. “Stop making fun of my cats. And they’re with Elodie. I’m going to take some cake and a drink down to her.”

Athos watched her leave. “You two are dreadful.”

“Sorry,” Aramis said, not sorry at all. “She knows I love her.”

“Fortunately, she does.” Athos got to his feet. “I’ll just collect the things I need for supper.”

“Let me help,” Aramis said.

D’Artagnan stood. “I’ll see you both later.” Porthos walked off with him.

“Damn pigs see more of him during the day than I do,” Athos complained.

“Yes, but not at night. At least, not yet,” Aramis said. Athos gave him a serious side-eye for that. “And just think of the delicious meat to come from all that attention.”

“I do, but it’s not as much comfort as it could be.”

Aramis suddenly realised what Athos’s problem was. Not just Pascal moving south to Valbonne, or d’Artagnan being busy with the new stock. Or Sylvie working four days a week. Or Juliette spending so much time with Elodie and the baby, and Elodie so busy with her work and her child and her new love. It was the absences, long and short, of Pascal _and_ d’Artagnan _and_ Sylvie _and_ Juliette _and_ Elodie...and Aramis too, all leaving a hole in Athos’s heart and in his days. “Maybe, now sometimes...you feel a little lonely?”

“Utterly pathetic, I know.” Athos knelt by the carrots to make a selection without looking at him.

“Pascal and Baudelaire are much missed,” Aramis said quietly. “When Marie-Cessette can walk, you’ll be complaining you never had a moment to yourself.”

“Perhaps. But she’s...not you three.”

Aramis put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He knew the feeling. Athos was probably the one who needed their company the most, but only by a short hair. God knew how much Aramis depended on their presence. God, indeed, was the only thing that stopped him being even needier. “What else do you need for tonight?”

Athos asked for tomatoes, a selection of herbs, rocket, lettuce, and two lemons. These were quickly gathered, and he took them back to the house to use in the evening meal.

Aramis remained in the garden, noting what he would need to attend to in the morning before they left for Paris. Rising at dawn beat the heat, and they all did it in the summer. D’Artagnan was anxious for their pigs because the creatures could overheat so easily, and even though he had built shady shelters, gave them plentiful water both to drink and to be sprayed with, he fussed, much to Athos’s usually silent irritation. That he said something today, albeit not to d’Artagnan himself, meant he was seriously missing the lad.

But summer would not last forever, nor would the pigs, and Athos would survive, though a little extra attentiveness from the rest of them wouldn’t go astray. At least Sylvie was home tomorrow, and Athos always relished her days off.

Aramis headed to the back of the garden to the little shrine he had made, not to pray at as such, but as a reminder of God’s watchfulness, and that nothing Aramis did passed without notice. “Thank you, lord, for this fine day and the bounty of the earth,” he murmured, crossing himself. He spent a couple of minutes tweaking the vines growing over the arch, pulling off dead leaves where pests could hide and their larvae shelter. He uttered another prayer for the wellbeing of his friends, before taking his water cans to the tank to fill. God watched over his garden, but the weather sent the rain. Or not. And until it did, some of the more delicate plants needed human, rather divine intervention.

After that, he would go to the house and water Athos’s generous, aching heart with some of the love he could never have enough of.

***************************

Constance was always gorgeous, but to Aramis’s eyes, lying in bed with her twins in her arms, Etienne at her side, she looked as beautiful as the Madonna. “Lisette and Pierre,” she said. “For my mother and his father.”

She and Etienne were thoroughly kissed and hugged, the babies passed around for fault inspection—none were found—and d’Artagnan shyly gave her the winsome pig carvings he’d been working on ever since she'd announced she was pregnant. True, he had to start another one once she found out that she was carrying two, not one, future offspring, but they had been finished for weeks, with him carefully oiling and hand-polishing the beech to a honey gold.

“By pure coincidence, they’re also called Lisette and Pierre,” Athos said solemnly, making Constance laugh.

D’Artagnan said, "I hope you don't mind they’re pigs. No insult intended.”

“They’re lovely,” Constance said, beckoning him in for another kiss, which made him blush. “You gave me a horse for Christmas. Are you planning a whole farmyard for coming years?”

“Maybe?”

“I’m hoping so,” Sylvie said. “Charles is so talented.”

“Papa taught me. Gives me something to do with my hands.”

“Athos, obviously you’re not paying him enough attention,” Constance said, which made Athos chuckle.

“Elodie says she can’t wait for you to bring them down to meet Marie-Cessette,” Porthos said.

“Me either. I’m trying to convince Etienne to let us move to the Garrison like she did.”

“Darling, we can’t all just descend on the farm like locusts.”

“You’d be welcome, Etienne,” Athos said, giving them both a charming smile. “All of you, anytime. You know that.”

“I do, my friend, and thank you. But for now, a little impractical. Perhaps when the twins are of age, we’ll ship them off to you for cheap labour.”

“Etienne!”

Even Juliette grinned at Constance’s outraged face. She checked her watch. “We need to go,” she murmured to Aramis.

“Yes, we do. Constance, my dear girl, you must come to visit soon.”

“We will. Claire and Olivier insist we must as well. Thank you for coming.”

Aramis kissed her cheek. “Would not have missed it for the world.”

Juliette also kissed her, then the two of them slipped out, leaving the others to continue the visit. Aramis hailed a taxi outside the hospital, and they made the short trip to the clinic where Juliette was having her psychotherapy sessions. “Good luck,” he said once the secretary called her to go in. Juliette nodded and left.

Aramis went down the road for coffee, and pulled out a book to read. These weekly visits had become a time of guilt-free leisure. He could read and drink coffee without the slightest conscience, knowing Juliette needed to be accompanied and that there was nothing he could do while she was with her doctor.

Up to three months ago, Athos had been the one to carry out the task, driving her into Paris at first, then, with great caution and Aramis and d’Artagnan to back him up the first two times, on the train. Once Juliette had shown she could cope with that, Aramis had volunteered to take over. He had a better understanding than all of them of what she was going through mentally and in therapy, and while she and Athos were and remained the closest of friends, she had talked to Aramis about matters he was sure she hadn’t shared with Athos. She was making great strides, but Aramis knew through bitter experience how many mines were hidden in her psyche, and how every day, every interaction, every journey outside the farm, had the potential to set one off.

Exactly one hour later he went back to the clinic and waited. Two minutes later, Juliette emerged, looking tired and drawn. Aramis was not alarme, since this was her usual state, and as usual, he took her to the café he’d just left, to feed her and give her hot sugared mint tea until she revived. Based on his own experiences, he knew not to ever ask her what she’d talked about in the session, but she often told him bits and pieces. So it was, today.

“We talked about me going back to work, and removing the tattoos.”

Aramis hadn’t thought either was even a possibility. He waited for her to explain. “Treville asked me last week if I saw myself in the army again. I do. But then there’s Elodie, and knowing my limitations. I don’t know what to do.”

The question in her eyes gave him permission to ask. “What are the choices on offer?”

“Back to full duties, as before. Not an option for me, I’ve decided. I can’t...risk....”

“Going through that again?”

She nodded. “Then there’s becoming a trainer. I like that one. Or I could go into recruitment or something tedious like that. Or administration.” They both made faces at that idea. “Exactly.”

“You’d be good at training. You have a lot of patience.”

She scoffed. “Me?”

“Yes. When called for.”

“Hmmm.” She sipped her second cup of tea. “Etienne mentioned that the marks might be suitable for excision, at least in a limited sense. The other options are...painful. Like tattooing over them.” She shuddered.

Aramis imagined enduring that would awake so many horrible memories, the cure would be worse than the disease. “Surgery?”

“I need to speak to a plastic surgeon. It wouldn’t hurt to talk.”

“Not at all. And one of us will be with you, you can count on that.”

She gave him a brief smile. “I do.” She leaned in. “Want to know a secret?”

“Always. You know me.”

“Treville and Ninon were married last week. He hasn’t told Athos, but his parents are going to have a party for them next weekend.”

“That’s wonderful! But why the secrecy?”

She shrugged. “Treville says Athos will be impossibly smug.”

“Ah, very likely. Treville will survive. They are quite adorable together.”

“Athos and Treville?”

He tsked. “Cheeky woman. Feeling better?”

“Yes. If I can’t manage therapy sessions without a handler, I’m not ready to go back to work.”

“No, but it’ll come. You won’t be having therapy forever either.”

“I will until I can travel to Paris on my own.”

“I’d say you’re nearly there. We’re being cautious, but if you had to, you could. Why don’t you make a plan about how we could arrange a trial? Only this time, don’t—”

“Go off half-cocked, yes, I did learn my lesson last time. I’ll do that, but Athos will fight me.”

Aramis shook his head. “You don’t know him very well if you say that. He’s as desperate as you are for you to regain confidence. Treville is the one who’s likely to complain, but since you are managing the train otherwise, he will probably not complain too hard. Trust us. After all this time, surely we’ve earned it.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” She pushed away from the counter. “Let’s go home.”

***************************

Aramis didn’t see Madame d’España the next day but when he turned up to volunteer at the church on Friday morning, to his surprise she was there in the donations receiving area where Sister Veronique had assigned him to sort the goods.

“Hello, I wasn't expecting to see you here,” he said. Even dressed casually in jeans and sweater, she managed to look like a queen, slumming it.

“I only just started. I was searching for something to keep myself since I don't need to work. Being wealthy, I feel I should give back to the community in some way.”

"Same here. Louis-Phillippe is still enjoying the football camp, I see.”

Mentioning her son made her smile. “Yes, very much so. It's helping him settle in to his new home. I haven't seen in this happy since his father died.”

"My condolences on your loss. Is that why you moved to the area?”

Her bright smile slipped. “Not exactly. I remarried in June and my husband operates his business on this side of Paris. It's convenient for him while meaning we don't have to live in the city.”

Aramis began to sift through the bags, putting adult and children’s clothes in separate piles, while other soft items went into another box. “Where did you live before?"

“Barcelona, but we were only for six months, before Louis—that’s my late husband—died in a car crash. That was twelve months ago. We had had plans to move to Madrid but his death meant we didn't.”

"That must have been very traumatic for Louis-Philippe.”

"Yes, it was. He misses his father very much. That's why it's important that he settles into his new school and make friends.”

"And you? Do you have friends in this area?”

“No, not any more. I was born in Paris, but after school I moved around Europe and when I married Louis, we lived in Marseilles for several years. My closest friends and relatives are in Spain.”

"My mother, God rest her soul, was Spanish. I lived in Seville during my teens but we moved back to France when I was 17 and then I joined the army.”

She exclaimed in surprise, "My father was Spanish. My brother and his family still live there. I miss Spain.”

"Me too. Especially when it's rainy and cold.”

They shared a look of remembered homesickness, but jumped at the sound of Sister Veronique clapping her hands at them. "My goodness, I hope we would do more than this, this morning.”

Ana blushed. "I'm sorry, sister. I distracted Aramis with gossip.”

"Not at all," he protested. “It turns out we have similar family backgrounds and a connection to Spain.”

The nun smiled. “Ah. Then it is not surprising you wanted to chat. But we do have to pack up these donations this morning because the truck is arriving at lunchtime.”

Chastened, Aramis and Ana set to work, and once they had finished, Sister Veronique asked if one of them have time to help in the kitchen. Aramis volunteered for that while Ana served in the café where elderly parishioners came for a cup of coffee and a chat.

At lunchtime, with the donations boxed up and packed onto the truck, Ana asked if he would like to stay and have lunch with her. Aramis apologised. "I have to get back to the farm. This is a busy time, and I'm in charge of the vegetable production.”

“A farm? You live on a farm?”

"Yes. A small one, but it supports all of us.”

“Louis-Philippe would be ecstatic to know that. He adores animals. Unfortunately, my husband is allergic to cats and dogs, so we can't have a pet.”

"Then you should come and visit us. We have lots of animals and I would be delighted to show him around.”

"Are you serious? He would die of happiness.”

"I hope not literally. But yes, I'm serious. Let me give you my phone number, and we can make a date. The summer is a good time as we haven't begun to kill anything for the larder.”

She made a face. “Oh yes. He knows the theory of where meat comes from, but perhaps he’s not ready to see the reality.”

“Most people aren't. But right now, we have pigs, geese, chickens, goats, and of course our horses, and a couple of cats. My brother, d’Artagnan, manages the animals and is very approachable. You would both be most welcome. You could come for lunch, meet all of us.”

“Goodness, how many of you are there?”

“Seven. No, eight, I forgot the baby. And next week it’ll be nine.”

“You have a large family.”

Aramis grinned, not bothering to correct her because they _were_ family. “I really must be going, but please do call me.”

"Yes, I will. I just have to check our diary. Thank you, Aramis.”

“ _De nada_ ,” he said, and she smiled.

Back at the farm, he found Athos staring over the fence at d’Artagnan feeding the pigs. He hugged Athos. "Having a good day?”

"Yes. Charles? Time for lunch.” D’Artagnan stood, waved to them both, and started to walk towards them.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've just invited a young mother and her son to come visit soon. The boy is new to the area and could do with cheering up.”

Athos looked at him. “Why?”

“His father died just a year ago and they know nobody here except her new husband.”

“No, why _here_.”

"Because he loves animals and his mother thought he would be delighted to see ours.”

"Did you mention the other wildlife?" d’Artagnan said as he approached." How old is the boy?”

"Eight. Well-behaved. I don't think he’ll frighten anyone.”

"But will we frighten him?”

“We'll be on our best behaviour, won't we?" Athos said sternly. "Your friends will be very welcome, Aramis. A little warning beforehand would be helpful.”

"Of course.”

Over lunch, he told them what little he knew of Ana and her son. "Is it her or the boy you want to please?" Porthos asked, his eyebrow arched knowingly.

"I have no ulterior motives," Aramis protested. Porthos’s scepticism was flattering, but unrealistic. Athos’s experience with Sylvie notwithstanding, it was unlikely even a woman as beautiful as Ana could excite Aramis now. But her shared background and faith meant a friendship was certainly possible. And her son was a very polite child.

Ana and Louis-Philippe had to wait for now. Apart from all the normal work around the farm, the latest guest arrived and it was immediately clear he was very different from their previous two wounded warriors. Nichol was taller than Pascal and twice his width. He managed to make Porthos look small, and even bandaged and leaning heavily on crutches, made for an intimidating specimen of masculinity. When Treville helped him out of the car, Juliette took one look and retreated to her cabin.

Athos, of course, stepped forward immediately and offered his hand. “Welcome, Nichol. I'm Athos, and this is Aramis, d’Artagnan, and Porthos. You can meet the other denizens later. For now, come into the kitchen and we can have a chat.”

Porthos took the man’s bag, and Athos offered his arm to help Nichol into the house. Aramis waited until they were gone and d’Artagnan had returned to the animal shed before murmuring to the colonel, “I understand congratulations are in order.”

Treville scowled. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you lot.”

“She didn’t. Only me. Athos will be overjoyed, you realise.”

“I know. But he set us up, and Ninon is still embarrassed about it. She’ll get over it. Besides, next weekend is also his birthday and his parents want to surprise him. Hard to do, normally.”

“Ah. He doesn’t celebrate them. He feels it’s counting down to death, and as you know, that’s not a subject on which any of us want to dwell.”

"I know. But his parents have something very special to give him, and as Ninon helped to choose it, it seemed an appropriate time.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, he’ll love it.”

Treville snorted. “No, he’ll bitch and protest and _then_ he'll love it. Because he’s the only one who doesn’t deserve nice things, according to him.”

“Yes. Tiresome. Are you coming inside?”

“No. Lunch with Claire and Olivier first. Let Nichol settle in. He’s uh...going to need a lot of gentle care.”

“Our speciality,” Aramis said cheerfully.

“Yes, but the kind of gentle care you give to a wounded tiger, if you get my drift.”

“Oh. Still. We’ll manage.”

“I know. That’s why he’s here. I’ll see you later.”

Athos was making lunch while talking to Nichol. Porthos was nowhere in sight, and Nichol’s bag was still in the kitchen, so the question of where he would sleep hadn’t been resolved.

“Aramis, later, if you could show Nichol our special facilities, I’d be grateful,” Athos said, just as if Aramis had been there all along.

“Of course.” Athos meant the panic room. Though why he couldn’t...or perhaps Nichol was just that jumpy. “I’m thirsty. Anyone else?”

That slight head movement from their newcomer must mean yes, Aramis decided, so he fetched two glasses of cold water, setting one for Nichol. “Treville’s mooching off your parents again,” he said to Athos.

“Yes, I know. Nichol, my mother’s our doctor. Aramis here worked as a medic for several years, and is up to date with advanced first aid. One way or another we’ve had a bit of experience handling injuries of your kind. So, I'll introduce you to _Maman_ later, but Aramis can help if sharp-tongued old army doctors tend to bother you.”

A flash of anger. “You think I’m scared of doctors?”

“I don’t know. I am,” Athos said calmly, ignoring the tone. “My mother is a _very_ intimidating woman when she puts her mind to it.”

“She’s a pussycat,” Aramis scoffed. “You’re the only one she intimidates, and that’s only because she used to change your nappies and will tell people about it at the drop of a hat.” Nichol relaxed marginally, but Aramis now understood a little more of what Treville meant.

After a meal that only the three of them ate together, Nichol agreed that the living room sofa bed was the best option for now. His mobility was limited, he was in pain, and the extra distance between the cabins and the house would do nothing for him.

“I’ll take the others their lunch,” Athos said when they finished their meal. He picked up a cooler bag. “Nichol, Aramis will show you the facilities. Aramis, also give him your mobile number at some point?”

“I’ll do it now.” The intent was to get Nichol’s number into their system, so they could contact him if he wandered. He wasn’t likely to be as dangerous as Juliette could be to civilians, but the real concern was what civilians might do to their wounded warrior.

To spare him the discomfort of standing, Aramis explained the presence of the panic room before showing him. But Nichol didn't want to see it. “I don’t need that shit. I’m a fucking _Marine_. We don’t hide in closets.”

“Not even if you need to escape an enemy?”

Nichol snarled. “I stand and fight like a man.”

“So, those that do use it...soldiers like us...are all cowards?”

Nichol didn’t say anything, but the chilly look in his brown eyes showed his belief that yes, they were.

“Oh well, maybe we are. I mean, who knows, right? If you don’t want to see it, then perhaps I should take you to meet Juliette. Major Grimaud. Did Treville tell you about her?”

“No.”

“Ah. She’s our second guest. She was seconded to DGSE, and worked as a lone operative for three years in Russia, the Ukraine, Afghanistan, other war zones. I don’t think she came back to France in all that time. Year before last, she was taken captive by Russian militants in the Ukraine, and held for seven weeks before being returned to France in a prisoner exchange with the Russians. She uses the panic room when her hypervigilance becomes too much to bear and she needs to feel absolutely safe.”

Nichol sneered, and his dismissal was on his lips, but Aramis cut him off. “She was tortured for all that time. Raped multiple times a day, waterboarded a number of times. Fake executions, sleep deprivation, postural torture—those were the least of it. Some of the things they did to her are so revolting, that I threw up after she told me, and I can’t bear to tell you. She might, if she’s feeling sociable. They burned her all over her body with heated wires, and tattooed filthy words into her skin over the burns.”

Nichol was watching Aramis as if looking away would kill him. “And in all that time, she surrendered nothing. Not a code, not a plan, not a name. Nothing. So, before you dismiss those who use the room as cowards, I dare you to say that to her face. If you walk away alive, it’ll only be as a favour to Athos.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Aramis held up his hand. “All of us were soldiers. We served with honour, with bravery. That we no longer do so is not because we’re afraid of a fight. We don’t think you’re a coward for being wounded, or suffering PTSD and survivor guilt. We honour our comrades by helping them. Please reflect on this before offering any further judgement on our characters.”

He smiled, with an effort. “But enough of this. We have a bathroom and toilet downstairs, with easy access. There is a door on the living room and if you lock it, we won’t intrude. No one will bother you or question you if you want solitude, but we will keep an eye on you for your sake. We want to offer a home, a refuge, a place to think and to heal. It’s up to you whether you use this chance to fight non-existent attacks on your masculinity, or to get ready for battle again.”

“You talk a lot, don’t you?”

“Sadly, yes. Let’s get you settled in.”

After depositing Nichol in the living room, Aramis went searching for his brothers. He found them picnicking under the fruit trees, with Athos blatantly lazing around, just watching the other two eat, leaning against d’Artagnan.

“Well, this is going to be so much fun,” Aramis announced, throwing himself onto the ground, so Porthos could drape an arm around him.

“His defensive walls have defensive walls,” Athos said. “And I know what I’m talking about.” D’Artagnan kissed his cheek at that.

“I don't like to say he’s a victim of destructive macho culture, but he is. He said only cowards used the panic room.”

“He fucking what?” Porthos growled.

“I told him about Juliette. That seemed to get through. But I suspect it’s but one of many skirmishes we’ll fight.”

“Porthos, you better stay clear of him. You too, Charles, I don’t need to be separating you lot or refereeing fist fights.”

Porthos bridled. “You saying I’m quick-tempered?”

Aramis laughed. “No, my love, why would he think that? Seriously, leave him to us, both of you. At least until he meets Juliette and she throws him over the roof for insulting her.”

The fire alarm sounded from the house. Athos and d’Artagnan leapt to their feet and bolted, Porthos and Aramis right behind them. At the house, there was no immediately obvious source of smoke. Aramis ran to the living room, flung open the door, then slumped against the doorjamb.

“It’s okay, it's just cigarette smoke,” he called out, then looked at Nichol. “I forgot to mention no smoking in the house.”

Their sheepish guest still held his pinched out Gauloise. “Yeah, I figured it out on my own.”

Athos came to the door. “Aramis, please fetch Nichol a saucer or something to use as an ashtray. Sorry about that—fires in these old buildings catch hold far too easily. No smoking around the animal sheds either, please. The courtyard is the best place for now. But not near the kitchen window, if you don’t mind.”

Nichol agreed, and after Aramis gave him an old saucer, closed himself away in the living room again.

“I can see this is going to be an exciting period in our farm stay career,” d’Artagnan commented deadpan, as they regrouped in the kitchen.

“Yes,” Athos said, giving him a look, “and one we will experience with grace and patience at all times, no matter what provocation.”

“Yes, boss.”

Naturally, it was just at this moment that Ana d’España texted Aramis and asked if she and Louis-Phillipe could possibly visit that week, which required Athos to decide how that fitted in with everything else now Nichol was a reality.

“You think it’s okay to have them around?” Porthos asked. “A little boy?”

“He’s not going to _eat_ him,” Athos said.

“No, just scare the crap out of him,” d’Artagnan said.

“If necessary, I can take Nichol to the estate,” Athos said. “This is Aramis’s home. His friends are welcome, as are yours and mine and everyone else’s. Aramis, Thursday next week looks good? But not this week. This week, we have to settle Nichol in properly.”

“Agreed. I invited them for lunch, but I can—”

Athos held up his hand. “Lunch is _fine_. If the boy rides, we could put him up on Chayse for a bit. If not, then there’s plenty for him to see and do. Just warn his mother there will be dirt, and possibly pigshit.”

Aramis laughed. “I’m sure she'll be delighted.”

With the message sent, Aramis went to drop in on Elodie and Juliette, while the others went back to work. He found both women in Elodie’s cabin. Juliette was feeding Marie-Cessette while Elodie was at her desk.

“I hear you've brought a wild bear to the farm," Elodie said, glancing at Juliette who was ignoring Aramis in favour of the baby.

“He’s not Pascal, that’s for sure. Rough around the edges, manners not what they should be, and this is on top of deep wounds in mind and body. You don’t need to be involved, and you don’t need to put up with any shit either.”

Juliette looked up. “Don’t imagine for a moment, Aramis, I haven't encountered men like him before.”

“I don’t imagine that. You can handle him. Elodie can too, I’m sure. But I’m saying you don’t have to. Athos would appreciate no knockdown drag out fights though. And he’s damaged, so if you bounce him off a wall, try to do it with love.”

Elodie chuckled. “She’ll be nice. I can’t promise I will, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you. And next Thursday, I’ll have much more civilised company for you. A friend of mine, a young mother and her eight-year-old son are coming to visit the farm. He wants to see the animals. I thought the terror twins would be fun for him.” The sister cats were lying next to the window and looked quite harmless. Aramis knew better.

“Call them that again and I’ll cut the kid up to feed to them.”

“Juliette,” Elodie warned.

“It’s a joke, darling. He’s always so rude about them.”

Aramis bent to kiss her head. “Only out of love,” he said, then dodged a punch to his thigh. “Mind the baby.”

She gave him a Force 10 glare. “Leave. Now.”

“Yes, dear. Did you make the appointment with the plastic surgeon?”

“Next week, before the psychologist. I can see the surgeon first, then the shrink. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Do you want Athos to go with you this time? Or even Elodie?”

Juliette looked at Elodie. “I’ll let you know. I’m still...sorting out how I feel.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”

 _Thank you, Lord, for giving me such friends,_ he prayed as he walked to his vegetable plot.

He worked peacefully on his own until four, when Treville hailed him. “Right, Athos’s parents are all prepared to meet Nichol, Athos has all the information he needs, and you’re all invited for lunch at the estate on Sunday.”

Aramis wiped his brow. “And the you-know-what preparations?”

“All in hand. Athos hinted that you have a strategy for our lad?”

“Yes, just to keep the peace. Until we work out how much is fear, how much is misplaced anger over what happened to him, and how much natural arseholery, we’ll keep the contact limited. I’d been planning to use Juliette as a way in, but now, I think that might do more harm than good.”

“I’ll let you be the judge on that. You and Athos know her better than me. The ministry is very pleased, by the way. This kind of programme is likely to save them a lot of money down the line, and that’s all they care about.”

Aramis grimaced. “All we care about is making sure people aren’t thrown away, but the ministry has never cared about wasting lives.”

“No, I know. By the way, Athos doesn’t know I’ll be here on Sunday at all, so keep quiet about that too.”

“Certainly. Give my love to Ninon. I am very happy for you both.”

Treville smiled, a genuine, proud husband smile, not one of his usual pained, forcing it through teeth kind. “I’m very happy for me. She’s a splendid woman.”

“She is indeed. Safe trip home, sir.”

“Thank you.”

***************************

To everyone’s surprise, Sylvie was the first one to build a rapport with Nichol. She had spent Sunday visiting a friend in Paris, and went to work from there, so she didn’t have a chance to meet their newest resident until she arrived home after work on Monday. Nichol was in the kitchen speaking to Aramis, not long back himself from his day helping with the next holiday camp, and Athos.

She entered the kitchen and Athos hugged her, kissing her like he hadn’t seen her for a year or more. When they broke free, Nichol struggled to his feet and extended his hand. "Athos didn't tell me that such a beautiful lady lived in this house too. Captain Nichol Gallande at your service, _madame_.”

She shook his hand. “Sylvie Boden at yours, _monsieur_. Please don't stand on my account. I know you’re injured.” She sat down and turned to Athos. "And where is my tea, boss?”

Athos bent and kissed her. "Coming, love.”

"Thanks. Nichol, do you like animals? Have you spent time on a farm before?”

"Never, _madame_.”

"Oh, please don't call me ‘madame’. I have to put up with that all day at work. I’m just Sylvie.”

“Then, Sylvie, no, I haven’t. I'm a city kid. I had a dog, though. Do you have one here?”

"That's about the only animal we don't have here right now," Aramis said. "But we’re thinking of getting a puppy. You'd be welcome to help us choose one, if you like.”

“Me? But I'm—"

Sylvie reached across the table and touched his hand. “Here as long as you need to be, and every one of us is allowed to have a pet or grow plants or do whatever gives us happiness.”

Athos put a mug of tea in front of her. “Exactly so. Our last guest just left, and took his dog with him. Pascal chose the puppy and trained him up. Baudelaire became Pascal’s fast friend, and we all knew that the dog would be happier wherever Pascal was. If you'd like to choose another dog, and train it, it can go with you when you leave, or stay here if you can’t or don’t want to take it.”

For the first time, Aramis saw something other than fear or anger in Nichol’s eyes. “A dog? But I might only be here a month or two.” _Still in denial_ , Aramis thought.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sylvie said. “It’s your home. A real home. When I was a kid, I used to daydream about living on a farm. Sometimes Papa would play along and tell me one day we would retire to one.”

“Me too,” Nichol said, with more animation than he’d showed until now about anything.

“Well, now you do live on one. Have they shown you around...no, of course not,” Sylvie corrected herself. “How long before you can walk easily?”

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe?”

“You can’t stay shut up in here that long. Athos, what about a wheelchair?”

“I don’t need a wheelchair!”

Sylvie frowned briefly, but before Athos could suggest she went up to change or do something to get her out of the kitchen, she spoke again. “No, of course not. We do have one. Pascal used it for a while after his foot was removed. I just thought you’d rather that than be stuck in the house.”

Nichol’s impressive jaw set like stone. “I can walk.”

Aramis cleared his throat. “I, uh, understand though that your leg would be better off not bearing weight if you don’t need to. Sylvie’s right. Using the chair would let you see the place without it making you worse.”

“But you’ll do the pushing,” Sylvie said to Aramis. “Nichol is much too big for me to handle.”

Athos stared at her, and she covered her mouth as she realised how that sounded. Nichol smirked, but fortunately didn’t capitalise on her mistake.

“I can certainly push him,” Aramis said, “but then he would have to wait until I’m around.”

“I can manage that side of it,” Athos said. He looked relieved to be taking charge of the conversation. “That is, if you’d like me to. The farm is all very charming at the moment. Baby horse, baby goats, baby chickens. You know, just like in a children’s book.”

“The demon cats too,” Aramis reminded him.

“Ah yes, them,” Athos said, smiling. “We need a dog just to keep those two under control.”

“I suspect they’d terrorise a puppy.”

“Then we get a big puppy. Or two small ones.”

“Put the cats on a leash, and let the dogs run free,” Sylvie suggested.

“Now that’s not a bad idea.”

Nichol relaxed. “Maybe I could use the chair for a day or two?”

“Then I can show you around tomorrow, with Athos’s help,” Sylvie said, smiling charmingly at him. “Yes?”

“Yes, darling, we can do that.” She kissed Athos’s cheek by way of thank you.

Aramis would have bet quite a lot of money that Nichol would rather be dead than agree to using a wheelchair, and yet, here he was, doing so already. _Witness the power of a beautiful woman_.

D’Artagnan and Porthos came in just then. “So this is where you’re all hiding,” d’Artagnan said, kissing Sylvie’s cheek, then hugging Athos and kissing him on the mouth. Nichol’s eyes went wide in surprise, but d’Artagnan ignored his reaction. “How are you settling in, Nichol?”

The man collected himself. “Uh, fine. I’m fine.”

“Good.” D’Artagnan put his hand on Athos’s shoulder. “Love, I’m just going to wash.”

“We both are,” Porthos said.

“I should, too,” Aramis said. “I’ll share with you both.”

Nichol’s eyes went even wider. Feeling slightly evil, Aramis left the room with the others. Athos could explain their living arrangements to the man. Or not, as he chose.


	2. Chapter 2

Aramis and Juliette left at eight to drive to the station and catch the train to Paris for her appointment and didn’t return to the farm until nearly twelve. The house was empty. “Operation Tame the Wolf must be in progress,” Juliette said.

“Unless he killed everyone and made a run for it.”

Juliette gave him a dirty look. “That’s not funny. He’s ill, not evil.”

“Sorry, you’re right. Feel up to a little search party?”

“Only if you hold my hand, big brave manly protector.” She walked off before he could retort.

They found Athos, Sylvie and Nichol up by the stables. D’Artagnan and Porthos had Chayse and Remy out of their stalls and in the pathway, so Nichol could look at the foal and carefully pet him. Remy was a gorgeous little fellow, all legs and mane. Chayse watched her humans coo and ahh over her boy with the placid confidence of a mother who knew she could kick all of them to death quicker than Aramis could call for help.

Nichol looked as if he was close to being in bliss as any man could be. Aramis put his finger to his lips, and snuck away from the stables. Juliette followed, and said nothing until they were both safely in Elodie’s cabin. “What are you up to?” Elodie asked, frowning at their antics.

“Strategic retreat to avoid disruption of essential mission,” Aramis said. Juliette rolled her eyes and went over to kiss Elodie’s cheek.

“Make some tea, love,” Elodie said. “Although I suspect something stronger might be needed to make sense of Aramis’s nonsense.”

“He’s being ridiculous. Nichol is being shown around the farm and it’s apparently going well, so we don’t want to interrupt.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Elodie asked.

“Because Aramis needs to be the centre of every stage, and to make an impact.”

“That’s me put in my place,” Aramis said, raising an eyebrow at his so-called friend.

“I mean it with love,” Juliette said, smirking at him.

“Yes, I can feel it from here.” Aramis threw himself into the armchair. “Did Athos bring Nichol to meet you?”

“Briefly. Either you were all exaggerating, or he was behaving himself for Sylvie’s sake.”

“The latter, I think. But I’ll take it as a win.”

He sat and listened to Juliette tell Elodie about the session with the therapist, though in no great detail, and then Elodie told them about the latest project she’d taken on. He was paying close attention when he suddenly heard d’Artagnan speaking to him outside the house. Juliette let out a laugh. “What?” Elodie asked.

“Charles is telling Aramis to stop hiding and come to the house. And we’re invited for lunch if we would like to come.”

“He’s talking to Aramis without coming into the cabin?”

Juliette shrugged and pointed to her ear. “Better than radio.”

“He’s still at the stables,” Aramis said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you later. Are you coming to lunch?”

Juliette looked at Elodie, and the two women appeared to be engaging in telepathy. “Not today,” Elodie said. “Tomorrow, though.”

“I’ll let Athos know.”

He found Athos alone in the kitchen. “Where are the others?”

“Nichol asked for help with one of his dressings which was giving him grief. Sylvie’s assisting him.”

Aramis stared. “He admitted...and he’s letting....”

“Yes, I know.” Athos permitted himself a small smile. “He had a good morning. He responded well to the animals, and that kept things civil. My darling girl helped.”

“She _is_ a darling.”

“Yes, I know,” the darling herself said, walking into the kitchen. “Stop talking about me until I’m here to preen.” Athos caught her around the waist  and pulled her in for a kiss. She laughed at him, though didn’t stop him in the least. “Aramis, when are you taking him to meet Claire?”

“I won’t be. Athos will, tomorrow. Maybe after you get home from work?”

“Fine by me. I’m starving, Athos.”

“Then let me feed you. Is Nichol going to eat with us?”

“He’s tired, though he won’t admit it. I suggested he lie down for a few minutes. Don’t be surprised if that turns out to be longer.”

Aramis could hear no movements inside the house other than their own, so he suspected she was right. “Well done,” he said quietly.

“The idea of a puppy really caught his interest,” she said.

“Then I’ll ask Charles to see if there’s a similar breed available locally,” Athos said. “I see no reason to delay.”

“None at all,” Aramis agreed. Since Pascal’s arrival last year, Aramis had done a fair bit of research on pet therapy and the benefits did appear to be substantial and real. The worst that could happen would be that it didn’t work, or that Nichol was rubbish at training a dog, but with Porthos and d’Artagnan around, that wasn’t much of a risk.

Nichol didn’t emerge before Aramis went back to his garden, working alongside Juliette, but Athos came out to find him around four, bearing refreshments and calling the others to join them. “Sylvie?” Aramis asked, taking a much-needed drink and lying on the grass.

“Feeding Nichol. He might come out later.”

“How is he?” Juliette asked. “Ready to meet me yet?”

“You tell me,” Athos said. “If it were you, how would you feel? Given he’s rested, has had a good morning, and Sylvie is here to smooth things.”

Juliette frowned in concentration. “Let’s meet briefly. And no talk about our service, unless he specifically asks.”

“All right, but a tight rein on your temper, please. He’s incredibly touchy.”

“Of course he is.” She sipped her drink and said nothing more, but Aramis felt she understood Nichol’s situation very well. Whether she sympathised entirely, was another matter.

***************************

Over the next few days Athos and Aramis cautiously drew Nichol out. His injuries had been severe but they were on the mend. The real harm has been done to his mind, both by seeing his men killed and badly injured, and by being one of the few survivors. More than that, the most recent assignments have been against some of the worst and cruellest militants on the African continent, and he, like too many soldiers, had seen things that no one should have to see.

He did best when Sylvie was around, and d’Artagnan too, to Aramis’s surprise. That might have had something to do with the promised puppy. A likely litter would be ready to inspect the following week, and twice Aramis found Nichol in deep conversation with d’Artagnan about what they would need to do and buy, and what Nichol needed to learn. This boded well.

And Nichol had also discovered the value of the panic room. He bolted there one evening while they were having supper and stayed there until just before everyone was ready for bed. He gave Aramis a sheepish look as he emerged. “Are you all right, my friend?” Aramis asked. They were alone in the kitchen.

“Yeah. It was...so many people around. I suddenly felt...too many eyes.”

“It can be like that. Do you want to take your meals alone? What would help?”

“Nothing. It was nothing...I don’t know where it came from.”

“Well, the room is there to be used. Would someone sleeping in the living room with you, help? As backup?”

The hope in the man’s eyes was quickly replaced by disgust. “I don’t need a nanny.”

“No nannies here. Just one soldier to another. Would it?”

It was as if Nichol not actually saying yes out loud preserved his honour, but his tiny nod was enough. “Then I’ll do that tonight. You tell me if you want me to leave. Remember, we need you to tell us. We don’t read minds. Well, except for Sylvie.” Nichol smiled. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

***************************

Friday was Aramis’s half-day at the church, and though he didn’t know whether to expect Ana, she was there when he arrived, cleaning up in the kitchen. His cheery greeting died in his throat when he saw her face. He marched up and without thinking, put his hand carefully under her chin to examine the mark on her cheek. She pulled away from him. “Don’t.”

“Did someone hit you?”

“It was an accident.”

“An accident between someone’s fist and your cheek?”

Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. “Don’t, Aramis.”

“Ana, if someone hit you—”

“Please. Leave it, I beg you.” When he didn’t move, she said with false brightness, “Louis-Phillippe is so excited about next week. He can hardly contain himself.”

He stared a moment or two longer, then sighed. “We’re looking forward to it too. Ana—”

“Aramis—”

“Just let me say this. _No one_ should ever hit you.”

She sagged a little. “Thank you. But I’m fine. Sister Veronique wanted to see you as soon as you came in.”

“Very well.” But he lingered another couple of seconds, sending sympathy her way, before taking himself off to see their supervisor. Ana had gone home by the time he made it back to the kitchen hours later, and he could only hope she had taken his words to heart.

Treville and Ninon’s secret had been successfully kept from Athos, and when he turned up with the others to his parents’ house, ostensibly just for Sunday lunch, he was taken aback at all the signs of a gala. “What on earth’s going on?”

“No idea,” d’Artagnan said truthfully. “Let’s find out.”

Nichol was not with them. Aramis had taken him aside and told him the true nature of the meal, and asked whether he felt up to a room full of strangers. He admitted he was not, so Juliette and Elodie offered to give him lunch. They had been invited to the double celebration too, but Juliette felt Nichol took priority.

“Besides, we can wander over later,” she pointed out.

So the brothers and Sylvie walked up the front steps of the house and into a tasteful but lively party. Ninon was a local and her close family were there, along with Treville’s brother, but also Athos’s aunt and uncle whom he hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years. He exclaimed in delight at their presence, never twigging why they had suddenly appeared, until his father came to his side. “Son, sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a problem with one of the horses. Do you think you and Porthos could give me a hand?”

“Of course, _Papa_.”

“We’ll all come,” Aramis said, sensing this was the surprise being sprung. His guess was confirmed when he looked back and saw the new couple as well as Athos’s mother sneaking out of the house after them as they walked towards the stables.

“What’s happening, Papa?”

“Better to show you, I think.” General de la Fère demonstrated a heretofore unsuspected talent for acting. His worried expression would have fooled anyone.

Their groom led them into the stables, and there, in the end stall, was a beautiful strawberry roan mare.

“Oh!” Sylvie exclaimed. “She’s gorgeous. But when did you buy another horse?”

“ _Papa_?”

“Happy birthday, son.”

Athos’s eyes widened, then he covered his face in embarrassment. His mother came up behind him and hugged him around the waist. “And from me.”

“And us,” Treville said. “Ninon found her. She’s a rescue horse called Maia. Eight-years-old, badly neglected, and finally recovered from laminitis.”

Athos put his hands down. “You’re giving me _another_ horse?”

“Yes. You said you wanted another. Is she not good enough? I can send her back,” His father turned and dropped a wink at Athos’s brothers.

Athos nearly choked at the very idea. “No!” He stepped forward carefully and held out his hand for Maia to sniff. “There, there, beautiful girl,” he crooned quietly. Sylvie came to his side, and Athos encouraged her to pet the mare’s nose.

“How could anyone neglect such a lovely horse?” Porthos asked, coming closer, as instantly in love, by the look of it, as Athos seemed to be.

“Money trouble,” Ninon said. “A client of mine mentioned one of _his_ clients might not be looking after his animals, and I called the authorities. I followed it up and found that one of the animals removed was this girl. And since Jean and I wanted to give Athos something special for this birthday, I thought she was perfect.”

“By the way,” Treville said, “The Lemays send their regards but the family are all ill so they had to cancel coming down to see you. Constance hopes to visit you all soon.”

“That’s unfortunately, but why make so much fuss about this birthday?” Athos asked. He still had no idea.

Aramis stepped up. “May I introduce you to Monsieur and Madame Treville, Athos?”

His mouth opened in shock. “You’re married? You bastard!”

Treville grinned at the feeling in his voice. “You said you didn’t want to date Ninon, so why are you upset?”

“That’s not why I’m cross, and you know it.” Athos went to Ninon and kissed her on both cheeks, then did the same to Treville. “Congratulations. May you have a long and happy life together.”

General congratulations followed, then Athos, Sylvie, and Porthos quickly returned to admiring Maia. D’Artagnan joined them, his arms around Sylvie and Athos both.

“I suspect they’ll be some time,” Aramis said, offering his arm to Ninon and Athos’s mother. “So, should we rejoin the party?”

The party and the food and the party were all highly enjoyable, but by three, Aramis was conscious that Elodie and Juliette were missing out. He sent them a text to tell them he was on his way back and to get their butts over to the house. _Do not neglect a visit to the stables_. He was certain the two of them would want to see Maia as soon as possible.

He found Nichol in the courtyard, smoking, his eyes closed. Without opening his eyes, he muttered, “I don’t need a nanny.”

“I don’t know where this obsession with nannies comes from. Do you want to tell me more about this kink of yours?”

“Fuck off.”

“Charming. I’m making tea. I can make a pot of coffee for you.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later he returned with the beverages. Nichol had finished his cigarette but looked unlikely to move from his shady spot any time soon. He thanked Aramis for the coffee. “Did I miss anything?”

“Athos has a new horse.”

“Really? Do you have room for one?”

“Oh yes. He’s wanted one for a while. For Porthos, really, although I can see them fighting over the new one. She’s lovely.”

“Nice to be rich,” Nichol said.

“He spreads it around. They all do. How’s the leg?”

“Better. I will probably be gone in a month.”

“Of course you won’t.”

Nichol shot him a glare. “I want to get back to work.”

“We all did. Your body will heal soon enough. But ,mentally, you’re not ready. That takes time.”

“I don’t need coddling.”

“Correct,” Aramis said. “You need rest, peace, and when you’re ready, therapy.”

“I could start that now.”

“Nichol, my friend, are you really ready to face Paris, and crowds, and intrusive questions about your psyche? You bite the head off anyone who so much as offers you a sympathetic glance.”

“Because I don’t need sympathy! I’m a soldier! I want to do my job, that’s all.”

“Then off you go.”

“What?” Nichol stared in confusion.

“You’re not under house arrest. You’re here entirely voluntarily. So off you go.”

“You mean, now?”

“If you want. No one here will stop you. If you’re ready for therapy, then make the appointment. If you want to go back work, call a taxi and catch the train to Paris. What are you waiting for?”

The big man’s hands clenched to white-knuckle fists. Aramis wasn’t sure if they would fly out to hit him—his reflexes would _probably_ save him. “All right.”

“Okay.” Aramis continued to sip his tea.

He ignored Nichol while he looked out at the farm. He thought about Ana, hoping she was safe, and wondering how someone so young and beautiful and rich had ended up trapped with someone who _hit_ her.

Even imagining someone doing that to her made him want to be sick.

A noise to his left made him look at his companion. Tears were rolling down Nichol’s as he stared blindly ahead of him.

Aramis put up his hand and slowly rested it on Nichol’s shoulder. “It would be a shame to miss out on choosing a puppy. D’Artagnan is so excited about it. He's certain you’ll be a good _Papa_.” Nichol wiped at his eyes but didn’t look at Aramis. “Treville wouldn't have sent you here if your injuries were simple and quick to heal. There's no shame in taking the time to fix the damage properly. We’ve both seen personnel who didn't take enough time. Do you want to do that to your comrades?”

Nichol shook his head. “But I survived. It's wrong to sit here on my arse, on vacation—”

“You’re not on vacation. You're completing a vital mission. Would you tolerate another marine walking out on a task when it was not even half finished?”

“No.”

“Then stop trying to do that. Two months, six months, whatever it takes. Besides, Athos was complaining about feeling lonely. You're doing him a favour, hanging around.”

Nichol wiped his eyes again. “You’re overrun with people.”

“And yet Athos’s heart is so large, his need for love and to give so huge, we’re not enough. Stay, Nichol. Be welcome, and at home.”

Nichol said nothing. Aramis left his hand where it was, and the two sat, enjoying the warm afternoon.

When he had finished his tea, and he felt Nichol was calm again, he turned. “More coffee?”

“No, I’m fine. How...you know about this, don’t you.”

“Oh yes. It took me a year to be ready for active duty again, and there have been spells on and off since then when I’ve had to...retreat. I didn’t take the time, I didn’t accept the help, I was so determined that _I_ alone would not be defeated by my own brain. Unfortunately, my brain had other ideas.”

“What happened to you was bad?”

“Not as bad as Juliette’s situation. Maybe a little worse than yours, but it’s hard to make that kind of judgement sitting here. It’s not a competition to see who can stand horrible experiences better than the next man. That’s the problem with modern medicine in a way. If you or I had suffered our injuries three hundred years ago in exactly the same circumstances, we wouldn’t have survived the battle, let alone long enough to develop mental illness as a result. But the brain is our least understood organ. You, I, our comrades, are all contributing to the knowledge, but we’re also fumbling along in the dark, trying the best we can. Helping each other as best we can.” He smiled. “Will you stay? Let us help you? Be smarter than me?”

“Okay. You don’t need to bribe me with a puppy though.”

Aramis laughed. “Oh, that’s just d’Artagnan’s excuse to get another one. He has this very firm idea about what a farm looks like. Cats, chickens, pigs, goats, and at least two dogs.”

“A man who likes dogs can’t be all bad, I think.”

“I agree. I hope you realise that once you’re physically up to it, Athos will get you onto a horse.” Nichol’s expression showed his horror, even if he said, “All right,” like the brave man he was. “He’s like you about dogs, only with horses too. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s just a big softy.”

“He has very good taste in women.”

“And in men.”

Nichol laughed in an embarrassed way. “I don’t think I’m ready to handle that discussion.”

“Understood. Do you want to go for a little walk? Maybe to the stables and back? Help you loosen up your muscles without putting too much stress on your leg.”

“Okay.”

And that, Aramis thought as he helped Nichol to his feet, had gone a lot better than he thought it might.

***************************

D’Artagnan took Nichol puppy hunting while Aramis was helping to teach football on Wednesday morning, so Aramis came back to find Nichol holding a sleeping bundle of black and white adorableness while Athos hovered and Porthos looked desperate to have a play with the newcomer. Juliette hung back, though with a little smile on her face. “Another collie?”

“Yes, same father as Baudelaire,” Athos said. “Which reminds me. We need to name her before Sylvie gets home.”

“Estelle,” Nichol said.

“That isn’t the name of a cartoon rodent of any kind, is it?” d’Artagnan asked suspiciously. He had taken the news about the origins of Remy’s name rather badly.

“It’s my _maman’s_ name. My _late __maman’s_ name.”

“Oh. That’s a lovely name,” d’Artagnan said, grimacing over Nichol’s head at Athos for his misstep.

“Estelle, it is,” Athos said. “Nichol, give us a call if you need help cleaning up any little messes, but otherwise, she’s yours to train, love, discipline, the whole thing.”

“And we need to introduce her to the cats,” Juliette said.

“That hardly seems fair,” Aramis said to wind her up. It worked, and she glared at him.

“You two,” Athos said with a sigh. “Nichol? There will be a small boy around tomorrow. Your mission will be to protect Estelle from him. And him from Estelle, if necessary.”

“Mission accepted.”

“Good. Charles, I want to ride with you and Porthos after lunch, please.”

“Of course.”

“Now, let’s put the dog out and food on.”

***************************

Ana drove up to the front of the house precisely at nine. Louis-Phillippe bounced out of the car and up to the door before his mother reminded him of his manners and he came to a halt in front of Aramis. “Good morning, _monsieur_.”

“Good morning, Louis-Phillipe,” Aramis said, grinning at the boy and his mother’s apologetic look. “What’s the first thing you would like to do, hmmm?”

“Please, may I see the chickens?”

“Chickens it is. Come in.”

D’Artagnan was in the kitchen, waiting for him. “And who’s this, Aramis?”

“Charles, let me introduce Madame d’España—”

“Ana,” she said, offering her hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

“And budding chicken farmer, Louise-Phillipe. Louis, Charles.”

D’Artagnan knelt down to the boy’s level. “Chickens?”

“Please, _monsieur_?”

“Then come with me. Madame, take your time. There are one or two things for him to see.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

D’Artagnan took the boy outside, and the next thing Aramis heard was the sound of small feet running on cobblestones. “He’ll be quite safe, I assure you.”

“Oh, I know. He’s literally talked of nothing else for days. Sébastien was becoming irritated.”

Aramis looked at her carefully, looking for more signs of violence. He found none, but her tired expression surely could not be just because of her son. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

She sat, but rose again as Athos entered the room. “Madame d’España, welcome. I’m Athos de la Fère.”

She accepted his hand. “Ana, please. Thank you for allowing us to visit.”

“Not at all. Any friend of Aramis’s is always welcome. Aramis, why don’t we take that coffee outside?”

“Excellent idea. Where are Nichol and Estelle?”

“Girding their loins,” Athos said with a small grin.

“For Louis-Phillipe?” Ana asked.

“Yes. They’ll be out in a minute and you’ll see why. Please, let me take you outside. It’s a lovely day. Shame to waste it.”

Aramis followed them when the coffee was ready. The cats had discovered the visitor and were twining around Ana’s legs. “Goodness, they’re pretty,” she said.

“But evil,” Aramis said. “Like their mother.”

“I heard that,” Juliette said, still inside her cabin. Aramis grinned.

“They are not,” Athos said.

“May I?” Ana asked.

“Of course,” Athos said, so she picked up Bit and crooned to her. “See, Aramis, they’re perfectly well-behaved towards those who are respectful of them.”

“I still bear the scars to warn me of their true nature.” Both kittens had lacerated his wrists in their version of ‘play’, and while he didn’t believe it was malicious, he preferred animals that didn’t have such sharp and destructive claws as his companions.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Ana said.

“Such a shame your husband won’t allow you to have pets.”

“He’s allergic,” she said, her expression falling. Athos’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Aramis. Athos knew Aramis hadn’t said that without a reason.

The door behind them opened, and Nichol limped out. “Is it safe?”

“Pretty much. Come and sit. Ana, put the cat down. You’ll want to see this.”

Nichol sat down beside her and set Estelle in her lap. Ana’s her face lit up in delight. “A puppy? My God, when Louise-Phillipe sees this....”

“We’ll do that later,” Aramis said. “Ana, this is Nichol. Nichol, Ana.”

Her eyes rose to meet Estelle’s papa, and widened when she realised that he was very much not a helpless, tiny creature. “Delighted to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. She accepted it, and enfolding hers in his big paw, he lifted it to kiss it politely, which made her blush. Aramis grinned to himself.

She swallowed, apparently realising she was staring. “Um, is she your dog?”

“Yes. Only yesterday, and we need to be very gentle with her.” He stroked Estelle in Ana’s lap and from the look Ana gave him, it was as if he had stroked her in an intimate place.

Athos looked at the two of them staring at each other. “I’m going up to the stables to see how Maia is.”

Aramis would have done the same to let Ana and Nichol be alone, but thought it would be both too obvious and too rude. “Let me fetch you a cup,” he said to Nichol.

When he returned, Nichol was explaining something to Ana about the puppy. She wasn’t really listening, Aramis could tell, because she was too mesmerised by Nichol’s presence. Normally the last thing Aramis would do would be to encourage a married woman’s interested in another man, but in this case, anything to distract Ana from the brute she’d married was a good thing.

“ _Maman_! _Maman_! I found eggs!” Louis-Phillipe ran towards them with the egg basket, d’Artagnan following more sedately behind him. Nichol put a protective hand over Estelle, just in case. The cats, with a superb sense of self-preservation, ran off to the cabins.

“Louis, you shouldn’t shout,” Ana chided. “Now, show me the eggs.”

He proudly showed her his finds, still warm from the chickens. “Lunch,” Aramis said. “You don’t get fresher than that.”

“Let me take them into the kitchen,” d’Artagnan said, grabbing the basket before it could fall. Louis-Phillippe had spotted Estelle and suddenly the eggs were of no importance.

D’Artagnan waited patiently for Louis-Phillippe to pet and admire Estelle, because Nichol would not easily be able to keep up with their other planned activities, but once Nichol announced that Estelle should probably go back inside for now, d’Artagnan put his hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Now, we weren’t sure, but we wondered if you both would like to ride a horse.”

“Ride?” Ana said. “Goodness, I haven't done that in years.”

“As it happens, Athos was given a rather beautiful mare for his birthday a few days ago, and that means we have two horses with good natures you might like to try.”

“As well as the hell beast only he and Porthos can handle.” D’Artagnan gave Aramis a rueful look—Roger didn’t like either of them. They weren’t even sure he even really liked Athos, but he tolerated him. “Ana, would you like to try?”

“I would. Louis-Phillipe, what do you think?”

“Please, _maman_?”

“Then let’s go to the stables.”

Nichol stood and took Estelle back from Ana, tucking the puppy into his shirt. “I’ll see you on your return.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Nichol was injured,” Aramis said. “He needs to take it easy.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise. Was it bad? Are you in a lot of pain?”

“I’m fine, Ana.” He gave her one of the smiles the farm residents had only seen a couple of times, and she blushed. “Estelle will keep me company.” D’Artagnan raised an eyebrow as he looked at Aramis. Aramis kept his expression uninformative.

To Louis-Phillippe, this was Paradise. He rode Chayse, sitting in front of his mother, while Athos rode Roger and Aramis, Maia. D’Artagnan let him help feed the pigs, and milk a goat, and then drink the milk still warm from the udder. He petted Remy and helped brush down Maia. He braved the lone gander’s fury to visit the goslings, and sat on a log while the goat kids ran around him and butted each other. He pulled a carrot and picked tomatoes which went in the salad he ate with his omelette for lunch, and inspected the beehives which produced the honey he ate drizzled on pieces of apple from the farm’s trees, as his dessert.

Elodie let him hold Marie-Cessette who was out on a rug to enjoy the sunshine. He met the cats, and Juliette, who did her best to be sociable. And at the end of the visit, he had a long cuddle and play with Estelle, clearly the best and most beautiful dog in the world. He was heartbroken to have to say goodbye, although Aramis promised him that he could come back again any time because he had behaved so well.

“You would be most welcome,” Athos said. “Both of you.”

“You have been so kind,” Ana said, no longer looking so tired and sad. “All of you.”

“It was our pleasure,” d’Artagnan said, giving her one of his devastating smiles, and making her dimple in pleasure.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Aramis said.

“No, sadly. We’re going to Canada for our summer holiday.  I won't be back until just before school starts again.”

“ _Maman_ , I could stay here while you and Father go away,” Louis-Phillipe said, sounding as if he had it all worked out and it was only reasonable for her to agree.

Aramis laughed. “I wouldn’t mind, but I suspect your father might have something to say. Go and have a good time, and then you can come visit when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“Swear on my life,” he said, much to Ana’s amusement. “And I might see you at football training, if you want to keep playing.”

“I do!”

Porthos chuckled. “A future Cantona in the making, I think.”

“Oh, don’t,” Ana said, groaning. “That’s the last thing I want for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry just yet,” Aramis said. “Right. Now you’re not smuggling any animals home, I hope. No kittens or goslings in your pockets?”

“I wouldn’t,” Louis-Phillipe said reproachfully.

Aramis ruffled his hair. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re a very good boy, and your mother is right to be proud of you.”

Ana bent and whispered in his ear. Louis-Phillippe went to Athos and held out his hand. “Thank you, _monsieur_. We had a lovely time.”

Athos shook his hand and answered just as gravely, “So did we. You’re welcome.”

“Come again soon,” d’Artagnan said as they climbed into Ana’s car.

“We will! ‘Bye!”

“Good kid,” Porthos said as they drove off.

“Lovely mother,” d’Artagnan said. “What the hell was all that with Nichol?” he asked Aramis.

“Ah. Nichol is a very handsome fellow.”

“And she’s a married woman. You were blatantly encouraging them.”

“I _wasn’t_.”

“He wasn’t,” Athos confirmed. “And I must say, for a newly married woman, she wasn’t exactly brimming with happiness.”

“He hits her.”

“What?” Porthos said, drawing himself up. “You’re joking.”

“I wish. I offered to help but....” Aramis spread his hands helplessly. “And I suspect he’s jealous of the time she spends with her boy, although that’s just my intuition. I also suspect the reason he won’t allow them to have pets is because it would take time away from him.”

“So you arranged this to match-make?”

“No, of course not. I had no idea she and Nichol would hit it off. I just wanted to let Louis see the animals. But there’s no harm in letting her see she has friends, and options.”

“Beware of interfering in a marriage,” Athos warned. “She has to make the decision.”

“I’m aware of that,” Aramis said. “But you don’t expect me to stand by and watch without trying to help, do you?”

Athos put his hand on Aramis’s shoulder and looked at him seriously. “No, my friend, I do not. You did a good thing, and we’re behind you.”

“Absolutely,” Porthos said. “Men who hit women are fucking cowards.”

“And don’t usually stop at hitting adults,” d’Artagnan said slowly. “Is the boy safe?”

“I hope so. I don’t know, Charles. Thank you all for today. You are truly gifts from God.”

D’Artagnan didn’t know how to take that, but Aramis was sincere. “I, um, need to go catch up with things now.” He kissed Athos’s cheek then walked into the house. Athos raised his eyebrow at Aramis, then followed.

“He doesn’t like you talking like that,” Porthos said as he and Aramis headed to the house too.

“I know. I meant it though.”

“I ever meet that bastard husband of hers, I’ll show him a gift.”

“You’ll have to get in line.”

***************************

With the start of August, Aramis’s routine changed. He no longer worked with the holiday camps, because d’Artagnan and Porthos were both rostered to cover the absences in the local fire service, and so their duties needed to be done by others. With hot, dry weather with almost no relieving rain, the two of them were kept busy dealing with spot fires, and went out almost every day.

Sylvie was on reduced hours until the end of August, and so she also helped cover their missing duo’s duties, along with Athos, who delegated some of the cooking to Juliette, and drew on food they had made in batches to save time later. It did Athos no harm at all to spend more time at his girlfriend’s side. Aramis often wished that she would accept Athos’s offer of support and give up her paid job, but she insisted she had to pay her way. That Athos would gladly pay her just to keep her on the farm and that there was plenty for her to do, hadn’t yet persuaded her.

Other routines changed too. The puppy had acted as Nichol’s path into integrating with them all, just as Aramis had hoped. Estelle meant interacting with Juliette and the cats, teaching the puppy how to cope with them, letting Nichol learn when to step in and when not to. He and Juliette slowly bonded over their experiences. His background and missions were much more similar to hers than to the rest of them, and the PTSD and depression he was suffering from were things she now understood well.

Aramis was glad to see Juliette reaching out like this. Elodie helped, and Aramis did as much as he could, but Juliette had a tendency to be caught up in the pain in her head. Having someone else to focus on was good for her—and Nichol. She was to have a small amount of plastic surgery in the autumn to see how well she coped and whether the results justified the mental trauma. Distracting her could only be a good thing.

He sent some photos to Ana that Elodie had taken of them all on the day of their visit. He received stiffly formal thanks, which meant, Aramis was sure, that Ana’s husband made a habit of looking through her phone. Aramis prayed for the wisdom to help his friend, and for God to watch over her and her son. He didn’t pray for, but wished for anyway, a terrible accident to strike her second husband down as it had her first. At the very least, he hoped she would reach a point where she would leave him, and before he did permanent damage to her or Louis-Phillippe.

And then it was the start of autumn and the new school year, and another routine change, with Aramis now volunteering for after-school football training three days a week, since he had far less to do now in the garden. He planned to spend every Friday morning at the church when practical, but had yet to see Ana after her trip to Canada.

To his delight, Louis-Phillippe was signed up for the football sessions. The boy ran up to him at their first session. “Monsieur Aramis! How is Estelle?”

“She’s getting big, like you. Here.” He showed him the most recent photos on his phone. “How was your holiday?”

“Okay. A bit boring. We spent a lot of time in the car. We saw a couple of bears though.”

“Did you? That’s exciting.”

“Yes, but Father wouldn’t stop so _Maman_ could take a photo.”

“Oh well, maybe next time you can. For now, let’s see how much you’ve forgotten over the summer.”

He hung back after the activities were over, hoping to see Ana when she picked up Louis-Phillippe. He waved when he caught sight of her, and walked over. Was it his imagination or did she seem wary of him? “Hello! Welcome home. Did you have a good holiday?”

“Yes. Thank you. Louis, hurry now.”

“Is everything all right, Ana?”

She wouldn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

So why didn’t he believe her? “See you on Friday?”

“Yes. I hope so.”

Damn it. He had to step carefully in case he made things worse, but he wanted to help her. He wanted to _protect_ her, and Louis-Phillippe. What was that bastard doing to her? And who, exactly, was her husband?

The answer was easy enough to find, as Louis-Phillippe’s parental contact information was available to him. The husband was apparently Sébastien Rochefort. Right, now to do some digging.

It wasn’t hard to find information about Rochefort. There was even a write-up in the local paper, now online, about Ana and Rochefort moving to the area. Her late husband had been Louis de Bourbon—no wonder she had more than enough money not to need to work. The tech magnate had made two fortunes, once while running his own company, and then by selling it. His premature death at the age of thirty-five had been widely reported.

Rochefort was in the same business and had been a long-term friend and business rival of de Bourbon’s, according to the papers. Upon de Bourbon’s death, Rochefort had been the first and most prominent of those leading the public eulogies and mourning. His marriage just ten months later to de Bourbon’s widow led to a few raised eyebrows, but others saw it as a natural development given the famous friendship between the two men.

Aramis didn’t know what to make of all that, but he did know what to make of a man who hit his wife and made her unhappy.

Until he had a chance to see Ana again, he concentrated on doing what he’d signed up to do with the children after school, and while he was kind and supportive towards Louis-Phillippe, he made sure not to pay him any more overt attention than any of the other kids.

On Friday he got to the church early, and to his relief, recognised Ana’s car. He half wondered if Rochefort would prevent her pursuing this harmless activity. He caught her as she was walking into the church and she looked as if she was going to make a run for it. But then she set her shoulders and smiled. “Hello, Aramis.”

“Hello. We need to talk, Ana.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Please, just leave it.”

“No, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Did something happen over your visit?”

She swallowed. “My husband was...annoyed. Only because Louis-Phillippe kept talking about it.”

“And then I sent the photos.”

“He—” She stopped and put her hand over her mouth as if she was about to cry. “He, um, hadn’t realised you were...you. Good-looking, I mean.”

“But we’re just friends. Ana, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No, I know! I told him, but he thought I had deceived him. Then Louis said he wanted to go back again and—”

“And then what?”

“He became angry,” she whispered.

“What did he do?” She didn’t answer. Aramis came closer and put his hands on her shoulder. “Ana, did he hurt you?”

“He didn’t mean to! He just...he’s very strong and he doesn’t know his own strength sometimes.”

“Bullshit. What did he do?”

She pulled away. “This is nothing to do with you.”

“Ana, he hurt you because I invited you and your little boy to my home! How is that not my business?”

“All marriages have problems. Even with my first one, it wasn’t all sunshine.”

Aramis set his mouth hard. “Did Louis de Bourbon hit you?”

“You’ve been snooping.”

“Did he?”

“No. Sébastien is a bit more excitable, that’s all.”

“Is that how you explain it to Louis-Phillippe? When he sees your husband hit his mother? Is that an excuse you want him to use?”

“Please, Aramis.” She began to weep and he put his arm around her, feeling helpless and furious in equal measure. “You can’t.” She pushed him away. “If someone sees....”

“Does he have detectives on you now?” Her expression told him the truth. “Why do you stay? You have your own money. Just leave him.”

“I don’t believe in giving up! We have problems, but we’re working on them. He promised to see a counsellor about...I mean, we’re going to see one. Soon. I’ve made an appointment.”

That was something. “But he won’t let you bring Louis back to the farm. He’s dying to, you know.”

“I know. It breaks my heart. He fell in love with the dog and all of you. But Sébastien...it would make him so angry.”

“And when it gets to the point—” He stopped himself. “Will you at least tell the counsellor about all this?”

“Yes, I will. I promise, Aramis. I won’t just roll over and let this happen to me. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not.” He reached for her hand. “Just remember, you have friends. You made a lot of them the other day. You are not alone, and we’re always there. I promise you that.”

“Thank you. I really do appreciate that.” She wiped at her eyes. “We should go in. Sister Veronique will be cross.”

“And we don’t want that, do we?”

For her sake, he played it cool and casual the rest of the morning, but when he went back to the farm, he exploded all over Athos and d’Artagnan, who happened to be in the kitchen when he arrived. “It’s insane that she stays with him! How can you love anyone who does that to you?”

“Marriages are complicated,” Athos said, his mouth turning down. D’Artagnan put his arm around Athos’s shoulders and made a face up at Aramis.

“Don’t give me that, Athos. Would you have expected Anne to have stayed with you if you hit her, forbade her from seeing her friends?”

“Of course not. But I’m not the kind of man to do something like that, so who knows how that sort of person thinks?”

“I don’t give a fuck about him. I care about Ana and Louis-Phillippe. Can you imagine what it’s like for the boy? Hearing that? Seeing it, even? And then to be told he can’t come back and visit us for no reason at all? It’s vile.”

“It is, however, none of your business,” d’Artagnan said. “That last bit, I mean. You can’t force Ana to go against her husband.”

“I know that, Charles. But it drives me nuts to think of him limiting their lives so stupidly.”

“What if the visit wasn’t just Louis?” Athos said. “I’ve been thinking for a little while that the children at that school might like a farm visit.”

Aramis bent over and kissed Athos’s head. “That’s brilliant! But, you’d really be okay with that? I mean, twenty primary-school-aged children all at once?”

Athos turned to d’Artagnan. “Will you help me be strong, beloved?” he said in a fake quavery voice. “How can I cope with so much excitement?”

D’Artagnan grinned. “Just pretend they’re Islamic terrorists and you’ll be fine.”

“There’s your answer,” Athos said dryly. “Talk to who you need to, but don’t let it get too late in the year because those pigs will need to be slaughtered soon.”

“And Nichol might have to stay at the estate that day.”

“Juliette too.”

“Definitely,” d’Artagnan said. “Or we could just give everyone Valium beforehand.”

“That might work,” Athos agreed. “Now, Aramis, go away and expend your anger on the vegetables. I’ll call when lunch is ready.”

“Yes, boss.”

The school administrators were enthusiastic, and since a planned excursion destination had become unavailable just as Aramis put the idea to them, it was a simple matter of arranging things for Louis-Phillipe’s class at the start of October. When the notice went out, Louis was ecstatic, telling his football teammates all about the animals they would see.

Ana was less thrilled. “You’re interfering,” she told Aramis the next time she saw him at the church.

“It was Athos’s idea entirely,” he said quite truthfully. “I passed it on, that’s all. I only wanted Louis-Phillipe to see his friends again. Does your husband have to know?”

“I can hardly stop my son talking about it.”

“What about the counselling sessions?”

Her lips thinned to a miserable, angry line. “They’re not...the first session went badly. He made it all about me and my behaviour, without addressing his own.”

“The counsellor won’t have been fooled, Ana.”

“I know. But if he doesn’t even admit he has a problem...we have another one on Monday. But I left the last one feeling more upset than when he hit me the first time.”

 _Good_ , he thought. _Be upset. Recognise you need to get away from him. Save yourself._

“Could you, maybe, go and stay with relatives for a little while?”

“After what they said when I remarried? No thanks.”

“There must be other people—”

“He would come after me.”

Aramis shook his head. “You’re describing an abuser. How can you not see it?”

“I just want to make my marriage work. It’s what the Church teaches.”

“Even the pope wouldn’t demand you stay where you and your child are in danger. Ask Sister Veronique. In fact, please ask her about this, if you won’t listen to me.”

“We should go inside.” She walked away, and Aramis could only look at her retreating back in despair.

September passed without anything obviously changing with Ana or Louis-Phillippe, though she didn’t let him bring up the subject again. He didn’t want to force her to give up volunteering on his account so he respected her distance, however much he worried about the two of them.

At home, Juliette had made more progress. She made her first trip to Paris on her own, without any difficulty, and declared she would continue to do so. Athos and Elodie went with her when she had the first round of surgery, heavily sedated, and stayed with her until she came home that evening. It would be weeks before the results would be clear, and before she decided whether to continue.

Nichol’s progress was not so obvious, but he stopped talking about leaving ‘in a month’, and appeared resigned to staying until at least he had begun therapy and was managing that on his own. He continued to keep Estelle close at hand, and was beginning to train her in earnest. His physical condition had improved to the point that he could now walk unassisted, and had moved himself to the cabin set aside for him, though he still spent a lot of the time in the house, either talking to Athos, or to Aramis. He and Sylvie went on long walks together, which may have irritated Athos, but Athos never said a word against it. Still, Athos had plenty to do with Maia’s arrival, and if that allowed him to entice his brothers out more often on rides, that couldn’t be a bad thing for any of them.

The school visit was scheduled for the first Monday in October. Aramis had hoped for good weather, and though the sky was grey, the rain held off. Twenty eight-year-olds and their teacher and some parents acting as chaperones hopped off the school bus. Ana wasn’t with them, but that was fine. Louis-Phillippe was, and he proudly introduced Athos and Aramis—"my farmers"—to his teacher.

D’Artagnan did a goat-milking demonstration, and let Louis help. The pigs amused everyone with their snuffling and noises, and none of the residents let on that Pig One and Pig Two would be turned into food the following week, though when the children asked what they were for, d’Artagnan was honest. “Eating,” he said. “And they fertilise the field.”

“How?” one of the boys asked.

“Louis? How does it work, do you remember?”

“Yes, _monsieur_. The food goes in and the manure comes out.” Aramis, listening at one side, hugged Athos in delight at the look on the teacher’s face.

The group didn’t stay as long as Louis-Phillipe and Ana had on their visit, but Aramis felt they had got good value from their time. The teacher had prepared activity sheets and as far as he could tell, the kids were interested enough to complete them in full.

At the end, Nichol introduced them all to Estelle and explained that like them, she was also a student and learning all the things that a young dog needs to know. Nichol let Louis-Phillippe have a little longer holding her than the others, but only a little. “She’s a very good dog, _monsieur_ ,” he said sadly as the children prepared to leave. “I hope I will see her again.”

“So do I,” Nichol said gruffly, and was that sadness in his voice too? “Now, run along and be good.”

“I will! Thank you.”

“Well,” Athos said after the bus departed. “That went smoothly. Happy now?” he said to Aramis.

“No, because she’s still with that bastard. But thank you. Louis-Phillippe at least got his wish.”

“That boy will be all right,” Athos said. “He’s got a big heart and a lively brain. Maybe his mother can protect him better than you think.”

Aramis wanted to believe Athos but Louis was only eight. There was plenty of time for his step-father to screw up his life.

Still, he was looking forward to seeing the boy again when he went to the football session on Tuesday afternoon. But before he could put on his boots, Coach Legrand stopped him. “The head teacher wants to see you up at her office.”

“Now?”

“Immediately.”

“Do you know what this is about?”

“Not a clue. Better hurry though.”

Aramis jogged to the office, wondering if this was to do with the farm visit in any way. Perhaps they wanted to arrange another, but why not just phone him?

The head teacher asked him to sit, and as soon as he did so, two men in suits entered the room. “ _Monsieur_ d’Herblay, these gentlemen are detectives. They have some questions for you.”

To his astonishment, the head teacher left the room, and the two detectives took up a position at her desk. “You are René d’Herblay, known as Aramis d’Herblay?”

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“Do you know a boy called Pierre Delarue?”

“Pierre? Yes, he comes to the football sessions on Thursdays.”

“ _Monsieur_ ,” the older one said, “Pierre says that on at least two occasions, you have forced him to perform a sexual act on you.”

“Sorry, what? When is this supposed to have happened?”

“In the last month, in the school equipment room.”

“Nonsense.”

The younger detective said, “Last week, did you have reason to take Pierre into the equipment room on his own?”

Aramis tried to think, which was hard because his mind was reeling. “Oh yes, I remember. He grazed his knee. I took him in to clean it with a sterilising wipe and put a dressing on it. It only took a couple of minutes, maybe five.”

“He said you took longer. And Coach Legrand said you were gone at least ten minutes.”

“Five, ten, what does it matter? I only cleaned up his knee!”

“ _Monsieur_ , I’m afraid that given the boy’s very clear description of you and what you did, we must take you in for further questioning. You are being placed under arrest for suspicion of having committed sexual assault upon a child in your care.”

“Wait...can I call my friends? Tell them where I am?” Aramis swallowed down the panic.

“You can do that at the station. Please stand up.” When he did so, the younger detective cuffed his hands behind him, while the older one told Aramis his rights in a monotone.

“Please, I need you to call my friend, Athos de la Fère. Please.”

“At the station, _monsieur_.”

There were students and teachers still around the school, all of whom stood and stared at Aramis being marched out of the office towards the detectives’ car. Why had Pierre said such a horrible, untrue thing about him? And how long would they keep him locked up.

Alone.

He began to hyperventilate and he had to use every technique he’d ever been taught in therapy to bring himself down. He couldn’t stop himself flinching as he was manhandled out of the car and into the station, and his pockets emptied and his belt and shoes removed. At least there he was asked for the number of the person he wanted contacted, so he gave them Athos’s. “How long will I be here?”

“Twenty-four hours minimum,” the charge officer said. “Forty-eight hours if we need them.”

Two days in a cell. “No, you can’t. You don’t understand.”

“Nothing will happen to you,” he was told, before being taken to a minimal, smelly and cold box and shoved into it.

He sat on the ‘bed’ and hugged himself. As soon as Athos got the news, he would raise holy hell, but would it do any good? Why was this happening to him?

Sometime later, he was taken out to be questioned again by another detective, and shown photographs of Pierre, which he confirmed was one of the kids he helped to coached. Yes, he had cause at times to take any number of the children into the equipment room to perform simple first aid. No, he had never assaulted any of them.

“You don’t understand. I _can’t_ achieve an erection.”

The detective scoffed. “Oh, yes?”

“Yes. It’s on my medical records. I underwent treatment...in the army...several years ago. It was a permanent side effect.”

“Maybe you didn’t need to be hard to shove your prick into a kid’s mouth then.”

“I didn’t. Please, you need to contact Dr Etienne Lemay, in Paris. He has all the details.”

“Oh we will, _monsieur_ , we will.”

They went around and around, asking the same thing over and over. He gave the code for his phone, and he was asked to explain the fact there were pictures of children on there. “The son of a friend, and his fellow students who all visited our farm. To see the _animals._

“To gain their trust, you mean.”

“No! I am not sexually interested in anyone, let alone children!”

They brought up his friendship with Ana. “A very beautiful woman, and a very charming son. Who was the attraction?”

“Neither! She and I have Spanish connections, so we started talking about that. It’s very simple.”

“I’m sure. Let’s start again.”

He felt the interview had gone on for hours, but apparently it had taken only forty minutes. They put him back in his cell and he heard nothing more until he was offered supper a couple of hours later. He refused the food, since he would only throw it up again.

Shortly after that, he was told his lawyer was here to see him. He was taken into a room, where Ninon waited for him. “Thank God,” he said. “Ninon, I don’t know why this is happening.”

“Sit down, Aramis,” she said. “Just answer me this. Did you sexually approach this or any other child?”

“No!”

She smiled. “Good. Now, I’ve contacted Lemay and he’s faxing documents here as we speak. Athos says to tell you he loves you, they all love you, and are with you every step of the way.”

He sagged. “They don’t believe—”

She gave him a look. “Athos? Really?”

“No, I suppose not. Can you get me out of here?”

“I’ll apply for bail and as far as I can see, there’s no reason not to grant it. But the judge will almost certainly say you have to stay away from children.”

Aramis stiffened. “Marie-Cessette. The farm. I can’t go home. Ninon—”

She held up a hand. “Calm yourself. You can come to Jean and me, okay?”

“But...for how long? And I coach the children....” She was already shaking her head. “Everything is taken away from me, isn’t it?”

“No. You have your friends and our love. In the meantime, I’ll be doing everything I can to find out why this child has identified you. Is there anyone who bears you a grudge?”

“There’s a few dead terrorists whose families might hate me...wait, no, one more. Sébastien Rochefort.”

She wrote the name down. “Tell me more.”

He explained about his friendship with Ana and her son, the man’s violent reaction to their contact. “The school kids came around yesterday. He had to have known about it.”

“Hmmm. Okay, I’ll look into it.” She looked at her watch. “I only have half an hour. I’ll apply for bail in the morning.”

“I can’t stay here all night. I can’t, Ninon. I’ll...ask Lemay. I can’t. I’ll go crazy.”

“Shhh, shhh,” she said, putting her hand on his. “Only a few hours, I promise. Athos will come to see you tomorrow and hopefully take you either home or to our house. I can arrange for you to be given a sedative, if that would help.” He nodded jerkily. “Then I’ll do that. Now, I also need to know exactly what happened on those occasions you took this child into the equipment room, and everything you can remember about the day itself.”

The time was over too soon. “Be brave,” she said as the officer came in to return Aramis to the cell. “And remember your friends.”

Her words gave him a little comfort, but not for long. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, and, hunched over the tension in his chest, he literally bit his lips to stop himself crying out. Sometime later, someone claiming to be a doctor came in to talk to him. “Your doctor says you suffer from PTSD, is that correct?”

“Yes,” he managed to say.

“He recommended Valium. You’ve taken this before? Any side effects?”

He confirmed yes, he’d taken it, and no side effects, so the doctor let him take a dose. “Doctor Lemay said you should be given more in three hours, but I am not permitted to do that. You can have more in the morning.”

Aramis stared at the man. Did Lemay not explain? But he probably had, and it had done no good. “Thank you,” he said.

“Try and rest. It’s not as bad as you think it will be.”

The sedative allowed Aramis to sleep for a couple of hours. After that, all he had was the strength of his will and prayer to help him through. By the time he was offered breakfast, he was ready to climb the walls the way Juliette’s cats used to when they were hypermanic. He took the food and nibbled at the bread roll. The coffee looked and smelled like shit, so he left it alone. _Athos, hurry._

With no watch or phone or clock, he had no idea what time it was when the door opened. “You’ve been granted bail,” the officer said. “Come with me.”

In the reception area, Athos and Ninon were waiting for him. So was Porthos. Aramis collapsed into his friends arms, faint from relief. “Whoa,” Porthos said, grabbing him. “Sit down, mate.”

“Not in here. Please, let me out of here.”

“You just need to sign for your things,” Athos murmured. “A few moments longer, my friend.”

Outside, Aramis took huge gasps of air. “I can’t go back in there,” he said. "I literally cannot.”

“You won’t have to,” Ninon said. “Get in my car and we can go somewhere to talk.”

Porthos cuddled him on the back seat as she drove, and Athos kept shooting him worried looks in the rear-view mirror. “I didn’t do it,” Aramis said.

“We know,” Porthos murmured, kissing his temple.

“There was never the slightest doubt in our minds,” Athos said. “The boy is mistaken.”

“Or being paid,” Ninon said.

“Rochefort?”

“Maybe.”

She drove to a café where they could sit in comfort and relative privacy. Aramis was still shaking, so Porthos kept his hand on Aramis’s body—thigh, shoulder, hand, whatever was convenient—the whole time. “I can understand Rochefort. But why would a kid lie? And how would he know, uh, the details of what I was supposed to have done?”

“How indeed,” Ninon said, her mouth severe. “Don’t worry about that for now. I’m obtaining CCTV footage from those two dates to check the time lapse. I’ve also noted some inconsistencies in the boy’s description of the man he said assaulted him. You’re circumcised, correct?”

“Yes. As a child. My foreskin was too tight, and so the operation helped relieve that. But what—”

“And you have a tattoo near the base of your penis?”

A waitress walked past at that point and gave Ninon the evil eye for her comment. Ninon ignored it. “Yes, a sword.” Porthos chuckled. “I was young and stupid.”

Porthos hugged him as Athos smiled a little. “We all were, brother. We all were.”

“The boy gave a detailed description of the member in question and yet managed to miss those two crucial points.”

“What about my not being able to...you know?”

“Another inconsistency. Really, the case is going to be ridiculously easy to defend, if it even goes to court. Unfortunately, the damage to your reputation will be harder to fix.”

“No smoke without fire,” Athos murmured.

Ninon pursed her lips. “Exactly.”

“Coach Legrand...he knows about this. And the head teacher too. And the teachers. And Ana also. She must think...God knows what she must think.”

“Actually,” Ninon said, “you shouldn’t try to contact her, not at the moment. Not when she has a child.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about her for now, okay?” Athos said, reaching over and taking his hand. “For the moment, I’m only concerned about you. Porthos will stay with you, we’ve agreed.”

Aramis turned to his brother. “But, don’t you need to be at the farm?”

“I need to be with you. The others will cover, don’t you worry.”

“What does Elodie—?”

“Same as us,” Porthos said firmly. “Sylvie and Juliette too.”

“And Nichol?”

“I haven’t told him,” Athos said. “It’s not any of his business. I’ve just said there’s a legal issue which is being dealt with and should be over very soon.”

“But everyone will still think it’s true,” Aramis said.

“That’s why we have to make very sure we don’t just get the case dropped, but that it’s most sincerely dead,” Ninon said. “So Jean is making enquiries with some police friends of his—former military colleagues—and we’ll pay for a private detective if we have to. This Rochefort is a rich and well-connected man, but so is my father.”

“And mine,” Athos said, permitting himself a smirk. “Aramis, we’ve got you.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” he repeated, choking on the words. Porthos held him close as he wept a little in relief and anger.

After he composed himself, Athos suggested he eat and drink something, then go back to Ninon’s home to shower and rest. “Elodie and Juliette will call you,” he said. “We’ll all come to visit, although I’m hoping this nonsense can be ended so quickly you’ll barely notice you’ve been gone.”

“Too late,” Aramis said, trying to smile. “Will you thank everyone for me?”

“Of course.”

“And the church—can you explain matters to Sister Veronique?”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Aramis, relax. Worry about you for now. Porthos, spoil him.”

“Yes, boss,” Porthos said, hugging Aramis close again.


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis didn’t know what he would have done without Porthos those next few days. Porthos held him at night through the nightmares, and at day through the panic attacks and lows of depression. Treville and Ninon were incredibly kind and generous to him, even though Aramis knew they were both people who liked their privacy. Nevertheless, they opened their home and their hearts to him, and Treville made it absolutely clear he didn’t believe the accusations against Aramis in the smallest detail. “It’s so frustrating. How do I prove a negative? Especially when it’s my word against an innocent child?”

“I’ve married a very clever woman who will do just that, so stop worrying. Just see this as a holiday, and you’ll be home before you know it.”

A holiday was all very well and good but the bail restrictions and Aramis’s anxiety about giving the police any cause to doubt his innocence made it hard for him to enjoy going out. Only when Athos or d’Artagnan—and twice, Elodie and Juliette—picked up Porthos and him from the house and drove them somewhere isolated, could Aramis relax. Porthos encouraged the others not to discuss the case, but to talk about the farm and the garden and the animals and the things that made life good.

Unfortunately, one of the things Aramis most enjoyed was helping other people. Being cut off from the football training and the volunteering was more painful than he could have imagined.

Two weeks after he was arrested, Ninon called him at the house to tell him the charges had been dropped, and an as yet unnamed individual was being sought for attempting to pervert the course of justice. She told him to go home when he was ready, and that she would call him at the farm that night, to tell him what was going on.

Athos picked them up at the station, his grin showing his real feelings about the development, and when Aramis arrived back at the farm, d’Artagnan and their three lady residents mobbed him, as happy as Aramis was to be back. Nichol smiled. “Whatever it was, I’m glad it’s over,” he said, offering his hand.

“Me too, my friend, me too. How are you?”

Nichol made a ‘ _comme çi, comme ça_ ’ gesture. “It will be better now you are home.”

So the emotional upset had managed to hurt even this man. Aramis wanted to hit whoever was behind this very hard indeed. Estelle yipped and pawed at his leg, so he picked her up. “She missed you,” Nichol said.

“I missed her. All of you.”

After supper that evening, Ninon made a video call which Aramis took, with Athos listening, in the library. “Thank you,” he said. “I owe you so very much.”

“Not at all. It’s what I do, and I was glad to do it. I think you were right about Rochefort, although I don’t have any proof. Pierre was paid to lie by a man who said he was a police officer. Someone had anonymously reported to the authorities that they suspected Pierre was being abused by an adult, and this police officer turned up to talk to him at the school, saying he was there to investigate. During the interview, Pierre admitted the abuser was his father.”

Aramis inhaled. “Oh no.”

“Sadly yes. The ‘officer’ offered Pierre a thousand euros to blame you instead, and moreover, said that this would mean his father wouldn’t have to go to jail for a very long time. He said without Pierre’s cooperation in the scheme, his father _would_ be jailed.”

“That’s appalling,” Athos said.

“Yes. But Pierre’s account had to be based on what he knew about...adult penises and so on, and the inconsistencies in his story with the facts, the differences in time estimation between your version and his, and even things like the fact it had not been raining that day but he said he remembered hearing it as he was assaulted, all meant the police had to back off. I got them to agree to tell the head teacher they definitely did not have any further reason to suspect you. I hope that will help.”

“Me too.,” Aramis said. “Pierre won’t be charged, I hope.”

“No, but his father will, and if they catch this ‘officer’, he will be too. I doubt it’s Rochefort himself, but the timing is just far too convenient for me not to believe he’s involved somehow.”

“So, I can go back to volunteering now?”

“Whatever you like. Aramis, don’t be too surprised if there’s lingering suspicion. People can’t help it. There have been so many scandals, so many cover-ups. Just be your normal decent self. It’s all you can do.”

“This can happen again, can’t it?”

“If it does, we’ll fight it again. Hopefully the fact we proved this was a set up will give the police pause next time.”

“Ninon,” Athos said, “someone in the police must have let it slip about the report on Pierre. That fake cop might have been the real thing.”

“Yes. Jean’s looking into it. All of you, please, be cautious in who you deal with and what you do, at least for a bit.”

“Understood,” Athos said, squeezing Aramis’s hand. “Thank you.”

“I’ll take lunch and one of your fine geese as a fee, how about that?”

“Done, and with pleasure.”

The call over, Aramis went to stand, but his legs went from under him. Athos caught him, and sat him down again, his arms wrapped around Aramis. “You’re all right,” he murmured.

“He’ll keep coming. I have to...how can I protect...Athos, I have to....”

Athos let him babble, soothing him, and a few moments later, other arms were around him. D’Artagnan and Porthos, of course. His brothers. “No one’s gonna hurt us,” Porthos said, his voice rumbling through Aramis’s chest. “It’s not down to you. There’s four of us, and the others.”

Slowly Aramis’s breathing eased. “Sorry,” he said, but they didn’t let him go.

“The smell of deceit is setting you off,” Athos said. “But no one is going to die this time.”

“That poor kid. Betrayed by the man who was supposed to love him, and then by the police who were supposed to protect him.”

“I know,” Athos said.

Eventually Aramis tried to stand, and succeeded this time. “I think I should go to bed.”

“Coming with you,” Porthos said.

“Me too,” d’Artagnan said.

“We all are,” Athos agreed.

A few minutes later, Aramis was in bed with Porthos at his back. D’Artagnan and Athos were on their way. He closed his eyes and remembered what Porthos had said was true. They were four, not one. He wasn’t alone this time.

A soft body slid up in front of him and into his arms. “Sylvie?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not in the least.” Aramis wrapped his arms around her and let himself inhale her sweet scent.

Another body, a deeper voice. “I thought you might appreciate some beauty after such a hideous time.”

Aramis smiled at Athos’s words and extended his hand, though he kept his eyes closed. “I do indeed, though such beauty is far lovelier than the experience was hideous.”

Athos took his hand and Sylvie chuckled. “Still got your silver tongue, I see.”

The bed dipped again. “Aramis would compliment the appearance of his executioner, if she was a lady,” d’Artagnan said.

“Or a lovely man,” Aramis said, thinking of d’Artagnan’s supple, brown body.

Sylvie curled against him, and he sighed. He missed the touch of women so much, even if he could do little with it. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

“You’re always welcome, Aramis. Always loved. Remember that.”

He would always try his best to, however hard it was.

***************************

The head teacher agreed to meet him, but asked if he could delay until the end of the week so she had a chance to spread the news to her teachers. Aramis had no problem with that, and kept himself busy until Friday. Athos reminded him of Sylvie’s request to be taught self-defence, which, in the circumstances, was now more important than ever. Nichol and Juliette wanted to be involved, and Elodie also wanted to learn the art. Athos had already bought sections of high density foam matting to use as their exercise area, which they set up in the courtyard.

Sylvie wanted to put on gym clothes for the lessons but Juliette objected quite firmly. “An attacker won’t wait for you to change clothes. Wear what you normally wear. Including your work shoes. The mats can be replaced.”

So Sylvie agreed, wearing an expendable version of her office wear. Fortunately she favoured trousers and low-heeled shoes.

Juliette gave the first lesson, using Aramis as her ‘attacker’. She didn’t believe in classical moves. She just wanted to hurt, and then disable. Aramis approved, allowing himself to be jabbed, poked, winded and knocked down while Sylvie watched, somewhat incredulously. Then Nichol submitted himself to the same treatment.

“Do you see?” Juliette said as Nichol lay on the mat to catch his breath. “You don’t need to be strong, just use your strongest points, like stiff fingers and elbows, at their weakest point.”

“You’re a soldier,” Sylvie said. “I’ve never hit anyone in my life. At least, not since I was five.”

“You think an attacker gives a shit about that? On your feet. I’m going to attack you from behind.”

Athos came to the kitchen door to watch his dear girl be put —carefully—in choke holds, her hair grabbed, and her arms seized, while Juliette explained in each case how to break the attacker’s grip.

“Shouldn’t I use my rape alarm too?” Sylvie asked.

“First of all, you assume that it will bring people to your assistance. It probably won’t, and it might also bring someone else to prey on you. Secondly, you have to find it and use it. Do you have it?”

Sylvie pulled it from her handbag. “Put it back. That’s where you normally have it, yes?”

“Yes?”

“Go ahead and try and use it while I attack you.”

Seconds later, Sylvie gasped for breath as Juliette had her under control and Sylvie’s handbag on the ground. Sylvie hadn’t had a chance to even pull it out of her bag.

“I could carry it in my hand, though.”

“Go ahead.”

Sylvie again gasped as her hand was seized and the alarm removed faster than she could press it. “Remember, these kind of men are watching you. They know if you’re carrying an alarm. They’re prepared for it. The alarm’s a waste of time. If you want to set it off, wait until you’re running away, but it’s still a waste of time. Let’s concentrate on one likely attack today—someone grabbing you by the hair.”

They practiced for the next hour, slowly at first, giving Sylvie plenty of warning, pulling the retaliatory strike to the face. Then they did it faster, with Juliette playing attacker first, and Sylvie hitting as hard as possible. Then they did it with Aramis, who grabbed almost as hard as he would in a real fight, and him taking the best Sylvie could dish out. When she had him breaking his grip for real, and could do it without thinking, Juliette pointed at Nichol.

“Think you can handle him?”

Sylvie smiled a little nervously. “Will you hurt me?”

Nichol gave her a nasty grin. “If you don’t stop me, yeah.”

She glanced at Athos over at the door. Her lover only raised an eyebrow. No protection from that quarter. “Okay.”

Nichol really laid it on. He moved unpredictably, sometimes not attacking as she walked along, varying the time he took at other times. His grip hurt, Aramis could tell, but Sylvie’s strike to his face worked nearly every time, and by the time Juliette called a halt, was able to get away from him in each case. Nichol wrapped her in a hug when they were done. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Ouch,” she said, patting her head gingerly.

“Yeah, ouch,” he said with a grin, rubbing his jaw.

“Good work,” Juliette said. “Tomorrow, chokeholds.”

“Yes, boss,” Sylvie said. Athos smiled at her for that. “When is it Elodie’s turn?”

“Now,” Juliette said. “I’m just waiting for someone to take over Marie-Cessette from her. And there he is.” Porthos waved at them as he walked down from the stables. “You might want to put some ice on your scalp.”

On Friday, Athos insisted on coming with Aramis to the school, and Aramis didn’t argue. He was still having occasional attacks of breathlessness whenever he stopped to think of the magnitude of the conspiracy against him, and how it could have so easily destroyed his life.

The head teacher was polite. “We were pleased to learn that suspicion has been entirely lifted from you, Aramis.”

“Unfortunate that the real criminal was Pierre’s father.”

“Yes, so I understand. It’s been very upsetting for the staff, and rumours are flying among the parents, as you can understand. We’re not allowed to address those directly, of course, to preserve Pierre’s privacy. He won’t be back at this school for another couple of weeks, if at all.”

“Just what he needs,” Aramis said sardonically.

“Quite, but there you have it. In the circumstances, I think it would be wise for you not to resume your volunteering with us until the new school year. Just to let things settle down.”

“But I’m innocent! You’re making it look like I’m guilty of something.”

“I don’t believe I am,” she said. “But nevertheless, that’s my decision. You’re welcome to approach another school in the interim, if you want to.”

“No.” He stood and walked out. He heard Athos making their apologies, but he really didn’t give a damn.

He stalked to the car and got inside, slamming the door. Athos joined him but didn’t start the engine. “She’s in an awkward position. The boy will age out of the school next year, and they can start afresh.”

“But the rumours won’t age out. I didn’t _do_ anything, Athos.”

“I know. She knows. But it will take time for the students and teachers—and the parents—to accept that. I’m sorry, my friend.”

“I suppose I could have predicted it. Do we have time to drive to the church? I may as well find out if Sister Veronique feels the same.”

Ana’s car wasn’t in the carpark. Aramis could see no reason for her not to be there, unless she knew he was cleared and was avoiding him anyway. He’d expected more from her, but perhaps that was unreasonable of him.

Sister Veronique greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. “I knew there was nothing to these horrible accusations,” she said.

“There was, but not involving me. It’s a very sad story, unfortunately.”

“Oh dear. But are you coming back to work with us again?”

“Will you have me?”

“Of course. Um, Madame d’España won’t be joining us again, she said. For personal reasons. She left you a note.” She glanced at Athos.

“He knows about her husband,” Aramis said. “Did she tell you about her marital issues?”

“We had a long chat, yes. Such a difficult situation. I will pray for them all.” Athos gave a tiny snort at that.

“I think getting her to a place of safety would be more useful,” Aramis said.

“Yes, I agree,” she said, to his surprise. “But it has to be her decision. I told her this church would always provide sanctuary, and gave her the names of other places she could go. Although, as a woman of some means, I’m sure she had plenty of choices. The difficulty is emotional, not financial.”

“I agree. Sister, I’ll come back next week if I may.”

“We’ll welcome you with open arms. I’m glad to see your friends are standing by you.”

“We always shall,” Athos said. “Good day, sister.”

Outside the church hall, Aramis opened Ana’s note.

_Dear Aramis_

_I was so sorry to hear what had happened. I never believed the accusations for a second, and if it was up to me, I would be glad to have you look after Louis-Phillipe at any time._

_I am convinced S is having me followed. He already goes through my phone for my ‘protection’. I can’t be sure my car isn’t bugged._

_I have bought a prepaid mobile phone, paid for by cash, and not linked to my credit cards or any other account S can check. The number is at the bottom of this letter. I will call you when I know I’m safe. Please do not answer it if I haven’t texted you first to tell you I am going to call you._

_We had our second counselling meeting. The counsellor tried to get S to talk about his anger issues and the violence, but again, he put it all on me. I am making cautious preparations to leave, but I must move slowly. If he discovers what I am doing, he may do something unforgiveable._

_Please forgive me for abandoning the church work. S insisted._

_If you also buy a disposable phone, or you have one unconnected to your usual number, could you please text me the number and sign it ‘Duchess’? I’m not asking you to do this, but it would make communications with you easier._

_I hate all this. I hate the feeling that I am being watched all the time. Only my son keeps me from doing something stupid._

_Your friend,_

_Ana_

Aramis showed Athos the note. “This is good news,” Athos said.

“Yes, but the noose is tightening around her neck. Leaving is the most dangerous time for a woman in an abusive relationship.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t mention it, but we do have a trained assassin in residence, if worse comes to worst.”

Aramis snorted, though it wasn’t that amusing. “What, and deny me the pleasure of wringing his neck? No, this one has to be settled legally. At least, at first.”

“Yes, agreed. But I’m going to update the farm’s security nonetheless.”

“And I’m going to dig out one of our old mobiles and text Ana with the number.”

“Better,” Athos said, “to buy a new sim altogether. If the man has police contacts, he might just have access to those records.”

“Fine. Then let’s stop somewhere I can buy one.”

As soon as he found the old phone and put the new sim in it, he texted Ana as she requested. No reply, but then he didn’t expect one soon, that day or even that week. At least she now accepted she needed to get out of Rocheport’s house and that marriage. But how could he help her do that?

“Be there when she’s ready,” Elodie said when he was musing on this point.

“Offer to protect the two of them,” Juliette added. “Be right there, in force.”

“I can do that. I know the others will help.”

“And keep the protection up until she’s out of his reach. That could be a lengthy commitment. Men like that, they don’t give up,” Elodie said.

“I’ll do whatever she needs. For as long as she needs.”

“Be serious if you offer that,” Juliette said. “And think hard about what that might mean. Do you really think you can be away from the farm for months, maybe on your own?”

That brought him up short, and he needed to ask his brothers for their opinion. “It’s easy,” Porthos said. “Let her move in here. We have a spare cabin, spare bedrooms.”

“But for how long?” Aramis asked.

“As long as she needs,” Athos said. “She’ll have to set up a permanent solution for the boy’s sake. But she’s welcome as long as she needs a haven. Weeks, months, even years. Her husband involved us in this, so she has a claim on our help.”

“Can we protect them though?” d’Artagnan asked. “All the time?”

“We can do our best, and perhaps Ana can afford to hire security herself when necessary. But we should prepare. Aramis, Elodie and Sylvie need to step up their self-defence lessons. If necessary, one of us will need to take Sylvie to and from work, and Juliette may need to escort Elodie if she leaves the farm. This is if Ana and the boy move here, I mean.”

“Weapons?” d’Artagnan asked.

“No guns,” Athos said firmly. “Anything else that’s legal, and has another purpose, I’m fine with. But I’d rather prevent a fight than engage in one. At least while there are children around.”

“And Nichol?” Aramis said. “This is supposed to be his haven too.”

“I’ll talk to him. He has first claim on us, you understand. But if it’s literally a matter of life and death for Ana, we can’t abandon her. After you’ve spoken to her, we’ll have a war meeting. I want to talk to Treville and my parents about it as well.”

The discussion left Aramis curiously hopeful and energised. Yes, he could help, and with his brothers—his family—behind him, surely Ana and Louis-Phillippe would be safe. But he had to talk to her first.

She didn’t call until mid-morning on Monday. “Aramis? I heard that your name had been cleared.”

“Yes, thanks to a good friend who’s also a good lawyer. How are you?”

“A mess. Very glad to speak to you though.”

“ _Where_ are you?”

“At a park near the school. I’m going for a walk. There’s no one around right now so I thought I could risk a call. But if I hang up suddenly, that’s the reason.”

“I understand. Tell me when you want to leave. Athos says you can stay here as long as you want. Just come.”

A huff of air into the phone as if he’d taken her by surprise. “That’s...thank you. Thank him. But I have to think of Louis. He’s already been upset by Sébastien’s reaction to the school trip, and then you suddenly being pulled off the football training.”

“Is it possible those two things are related?”

She went quiet and he wondered if someone was close by. “Sébastien said something the other day, when we were fighting about me going back to the church. He said, ‘I’ll deal with him the way I’ve dealt with other men who get in my way.’ I think he meant you. But I can’t help but think he might have meant Louis—my husband—too.”

“He died in an accident, you said.”

“Yes. He drove off the road and down a cliff. The police thought he might have had a hypo. A hypoglycaemic attack. He was diabetic. Or perhaps he was just distracted. But what if Sébastien.... It’s too horrible to imagine.”

“You remarried rather soon after you were widowed.”

“I know. He was so kind and always there, and when he offered to marry me, it was as if a weight had come off my shoulders. But now I think he was waiting to pounce. I don’t know, Aramis. It’s hard to think rationally when I feel so paranoid.”

“I don’t think it’s necessarily irrational. But back to you leaving. What are you going to do?”

“I thought about just before Xmas. My brother has invited me to go to his place with Louis-Phillippe. We have plans to go to Rocheport’s family over New Year. He doesn’t like my brother at all, and I thought I might be able to persuade him to let us go without him.”

“You said your family were unkind towards you about your remarriage.”

“They didn’t trust him. Turns out they were right.”

 _Damn right,_ Aramis thought. “Then this could be a good idea.”

“Yes, I hope so. It lets me take some of our things too—our precious things.”

“When will you put it to him?”

“Maybe in a couple of weeks. I’m scared though. He flies into a rage over just about everything now, and wants to me to account for every second I’m out of the house.”

“Athos mentioned that you might be able to afford your own security guards, once you leave. At least for a while.”

She went silent again. “I hadn’t thought of that. Where would I start?”

“I can ask my friend for some recommendations, if you like. But the important thing is getting you out. All of us would be prepared to guard you as you removed yourself.”

“Thank you, but I want to try and leave without triggering a drama, for Louis’s sake.”

“I understand that, Ana, but him listening to that man rage at you isn’t healthy either.”

“I try and keep that away from him as much as I can.”

Aramis was sceptical that it would work as well as she thought, but he didn’t argue. “Anyway, I’m here, ready, and we will take you in at any time, no notice, if it come to that. We all want to help.”

“You’re all so lovely. When I’m free, I hope we can all still be friends. Louis-Phillippe adores you. Adores all of you.”

“Estelle most of all.”

She laughed. “Yes. I’m going to get him a dog the second I can. Pray for me, Aramis?”

“Always, for both of you. Be strong, and know you are not alone.”

“I do. Thank you.”

Keeping his promise, he murmured a prayer for the two of them when he hung up. But because he also believed God helps those who help themselves, he went to Athos and told him Ana’s plans.

“Right then,” Athos said, “so, we’re only back up. But just in case things don’t go smoothly, I want to make sure we all know how to handle her sudden arrival, and what that mean for us. Please let everyone know that we’ll eat together in the house tonight, and discuss this over dinner.”

Athos waited until the main meal was over, and everyone was either drinking tea, eating fruit, or picking at a little cheese. “We have had an update on Ana d’España’s situation. She’s planning to leave discreetly over Xmas, and go to Spain. If her plan works, we won’t be involved, and not in any great danger, though it’s possible her husband may try to retaliate against Aramis or the Garrison generally.”

He steepled his fingers. “However, her husband’s volatility and violent emotions have become worse, and it’s possible her situation will deteriorate before she can leave in an orderly fashion. That may mean she comes here, possibly at short notice. I’d have to rank the chances of this happening at the very least, at fifty percent. So, with that in mind, we will prepare for an unwanted visit by her husband in pursuit, and I doubt he’ll come alone. We cannot rely on the local police as we still don’t know how involved they were in what happened with Aramis.”

Porthos took Aramis’s hand and squeezed it.

“Athos, what about Treville’s friends?” d’Artagnan said.

“Yes, we can rely on them, but we can’t expect them to get here in time to deal with an emergency. So bearing all that in mind, first I want to talk about Elodie and Nichol. Elodie, my dear, do you feel comfortable staying here with the baby?”

“I would be nowhere else. This is my home, and I will not run.” She smiled at Juliette. “And I have protection on tap.”

“Very well. May I suggest that you consider moving into the house if things develop as I fear they might? Just at night?”

“I can do that, certainly. I’m bringing my crossbow.”

Athos smiled. “Your crossbow is essential to the rest of my plan, so please, do so. Nichol.” The man looked at him. “You were never meant to be put in this situation. I’m worried about the effect on your mental health. It’s hardly restful waiting for an attack to occur.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“I never thought you would be. But you’re here to rest and recuperate. There are two options—you could stay with my parents, at least in the evenings. Or you could go somewhere else to rest until Xmas.”

“Third option—I stay here, help protect my home same as Elodie, and support my comrades.” Juliette smiled at him. “Athos, I’m better than I was. Much better. In fact I was going to ask you soon if we could try going to Paris, and then I can meet the therapist Juliette sees.”

Aramis turned to him. “I’m so happy to hear this,” he said. “Congratulations.”

“Take Estelle,” Juliette said. “It’ll make a difference.”

“Okay. So, my answer is, I stay.”

“Very well. But in the house at night, same as Elodie, if we get any hint things have escalated. I don’t want anyone outside at night unless they’re keeping a watch. I will also ask that if you leave the farm, you go in pairs at a minimum.”

“I can’t agree to that,” Elodie said. “I have to see clients.”

Aramis stroked his beard. “How often?”

“Once, twice a week.”

“I can go with you,” Juliette said, “and wait in the car. Or Aramis or Athos can.”

“The risk is too great for you to go alone,” Athos said. “It would be child’s play to lure you out on a false premise and pick you off.”

“Aren’t you exaggerating the danger just a bit?”

“No, he’s not,” Juliette said. “Please, darling?”

“All right. I just think the risk isn’t as high as you think.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Athos said. “Sylvie, one of us will drive you to and from work. Now you’ve reduced your hours—”

“What? When did that happen?” Aramis asked.

“Just this week,” Sylvie said. “The woman I replaced came back from maternity leave and I asked to reduce my days down to two. I want to be here, not there.” She smiled at Athos and d’Artagnan. “I understand there’s work for me here to do as well.”

Aramis was delighted at her decision. “But what about when you’re at work?”

“The councillor has security as a matter of course,” Athos said. “It’s not perfect, but we can’t sit inside the office all day watching her. Love, you need to be careful if you go out for lunch or to run an errand.”

“I will, I promise. I can tell my boss what’s going on. He’ll understand.”

“Good. I have a firm coming tomorrow to upgrade our alarms and surveillance systems. D’Artagnan, Porthos, you two work the furthest from the house, the most often. I would be happy if you could keep each other in sight, and work out some kind of check in system with each other, and with me.”

“Will do,” d’Artagnan said.

“And we’ll do our best to keep checking in with you at random intervals,” Aramis said. “There are enough of us that this shouldn’t be a burden.”

“No, it won’t,” Athos said. “Juliette, you and I will talk about a defence plan tomorrow while we bake, and then all of us will meet again to talk it through. There will be a drill. Sorry,” he said at Elodie’s expression. “Practice does make perfect.”

“Speaking of which, you girls need to keep working on self-defence,” Juliette said. “We’ll stop when you can throw Nichol across the courtyard.”

“Hey.”

Sylvie patted Nichol’s hand. “With love, Nichol. With love.”

***************************

Perhaps Elodie and Sylvie were a little surprised at how seriously Athos was taking the potential threat, and how meticulous his plans were, but none of the others were. Good officers themselves, they recognised a good leader when they saw one—and with Athos and Juliette, they had two.

Drills were run, and their two civilians were trained to the point of threatening to walk out—at which point Juliette told them they had that option. “But if you stay, you can either fight or hide. If you want to fight, get back into it. If you want to hide, you have the code for the panic room. Those are your choices.”

Athos listened to all this from the side. A cranky Sylvie looked at him, and they exchanged thoughts in their expressions. Then she turned back to Juliette. “All right. Again.”

It would all be a little ridiculous if this training ended up not being needed, but like Athos, Aramis would be only relieved if Ana was able to get away to Spain without any fallout. He didn’t expect her to call again, at least, not soon. He had plenty to keep himself busy, though on the afternoons when he would have been due to go to football training, it was odd how often Porthos or Athos found a reason to come to the garden, or d’Artagnan suggested he stop and have a cup of tea with him.

Not odd, really. His brothers were looking out for him.

And he looked out for his brothers, or at least, one brother, whose recovery remained their first priority. Aramis took Nichol into Paris on the train when Juliette had her regular appointment. Estelle came with them in Nichol’s arms, which surely helped, although the big man’s eyes darted around the carriage the whole time, and he positioned himself facing the exit. By the time Aramis took him to the small café where he usually waited, Nichol looked wrung out.

“Such a big brave soldier,” he sneered at himself.

“You insult every one of us when you say that, including yourself. Stop it,” Aramis said. “And put the bowl out for madame. She’s thirsty.”

Estelle’s presence helped, although she attracted attention from dog lovers who approached and wanted to look and pat. Aramis kept an apparently casual arm on Nichol’s shoulder when this happened, but let Nichol handle the interaction.

After the third chat with cooing admirers, Nichol picked Estelle up and put her in his lap. “Maybe I should investigate a therapy snake instead.” This didn’t stop him scratching behind the puppy’s head and murmuring nonsense to her.

“Now there’s an idea,” Aramis said. “Not much in the way of cuddles there.”

“How about a rat? They make good pets.”

“So I hear. You want to bring a rat onto a farm with the terror kittens?”

Nichol grimaced at him. “Maybe not.”

“Then I suggest you get used to people admiring your dog.”

Juliette took one look at Nichol when she came out of her appointment and said, “It gets easier.”

“This shouldn’t even be hard.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Nichol blinked. Aramis shrugged. “Tough love.”

Ana texted Aramis three weeks after their last conversation to let him know she would be calling, then did so. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. He’s been a little less angry, but that might be because I’m trying so hard not to set him off. It’s exhausting.”

“Yes, I’m sure. And Louis-Phillippe?”

“Sébastien wants me to send him to boarding school. Says he needs to toughen up, and stop moping. He doesn’t seem to care that it’s been barely a year since his father died.”

“Why did you marry this man?”

She laughed bitterly. “It’s very hard to remember. I feel as if I’m waking from a long, strange dream. My thoughts were so clouded and confused. But now, I know what I need to do. I’m going to talk to him this weekend.”

“Good luck. If you feel you can’t risk it, don’t. Come here instead.”

“I will. One good sign—I mentioned Christmas the other day, and my brother’s general invitation to us and he was very unenthusiastic. That could mean he won’t stop me going on my own.”

“I hope so.” Though Aramis didn’t feel that confident. Men like Rochefort were never happy unless they could control everyone close to them. “You can tell Louis that Estelle went on the train for the first time the other day and she was a very good girl.”

“Oh, I will! How is everyone there? I wish we could come visit again.”

“So do I. You will. I feel it in my bones.”

“Then that’s good. I should go.”

“I pray for you both every day, Ana. But God expects us to take charge of our own lives too.”

“I know, and I do. I’ll call you when I know what he’s said.”

After he hung up, Aramis wondered if Rochefort would let them go even if he agreed to it initially. Would Louis really be so much more upset if Ana hired security to protect her while she walked out on her abusive husband, rather than sneaking out? And boarding school? The man was a monster.

That night, he heard someone banging at the door. He crept downstairs. Somehow, he knew it had to be Ana. He pulled open the door, and found her there, holding Louis-Phillippe. “Aramis, quickly, take him!”

He reached out towards the boy, but his hands couldn’t reach him, because someone behind Ana was pulling them away and no matter how much he struggled to get to them, they were dragged back.

Their attacker was in front of him now, with Louis in his grip. “You tried to stop me seeing my son!” he roared.

Aramis screamed back, “He’s not your son, you killed his father,” but the man had a knife and while Aramis still strained and fought to reach the boy, the man slashed him across the throat and Louis-Phillippe fell to the ground, his blood spraying all over Aramis while Ana screamed and screamed—

“Aramis! Aramis, wake up, mate.”

Aramis briefly fought the hold on him before realising who it was. He slumped in Porthos’s arms.

“Some nightmare,” Porthos said, rubbing Aramis’s chest in gentle circles.

“Rochefort...killed Louis. I couldn’t help.” His eyes were still wet from the grief and anger of the dream.

“Pretty bad.”

“Aramis?”

Aramis held his hand out to d’Artagnan who sat on the bed next to him. “I’m all right.”

“Good. Mind if I join you two? Athos and Sylvie are having a moment.”

 _Liar_ , Aramis thought fondly. “No. Though we’re having a moment of a different kind.”

D’Artagnan slid into bed next to him, and put his hand on Aramis’s chest next to Porthos’s. With Porthos at his back and d’Artagnan at his front, Aramis was quite comfortably cocooned. “You know I’m okay, right? It’s just a dream.”

“And?” Porthos said.

“And...we all have them?”

“Yes, we do. And then we all want a little cuddle afterwards,” d’Artagnan said. “What’s the point with living with your best friends and loved ones if you can’t snuggle with them?”

“True. But I’m fine.”

“Aramis? Shut up,” d’Artagnan said.

“Yeah,” Porthos said, kissing Aramis’s temple.

 _Cheek_ , Aramis thought, but didn’t remember anything after that.

***************************

The frantic knocking at the front door as they sat down to supper on Saturday night caused an uncomfortable lurch in Aramis’s chest, but he went after Athos to see who it was, checking his hunting knife was still at his belt. Athos check the spyhole, then opened the door. Ana stood there, tear-stained and distressed, clutching an equally upset-looking Louis-Phillippe. “He tried to kill us.” A bruise was starting to show on her face, and the corner of her mouth was swollen.

“Come in,” Athos said, and locking the door firmly behind them. Aramis put his hand on Louis-Phillippe’s shoulder. The boy was trembling hard.

D’Artagnan and Porthos rose as they entered the kitchen. Sylvie went to Ana and took her hands. “Come and sit. You look terrible.” She led Ana over to a chair.

“Ana, please give Charles your keys so he can put your car in the shed,” Athos said. She fumbled in the bag and d’Artagnan slipped out as soon as she gave them to him. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Then, please sit, join us. Nichol, would you be kind enough to let Juliette and Elodie know the contingency plan is now active, to lock up the cats, and fetch what you need to sleep here tonight. Fifteen minutes, then you’re all back here, ready or not.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Porthos, everything is locked up tight?”

“Yeah, like every night. Alarms are all set.”

“Thank you.”

Ana stared at Athos in confusion. “Plan?”

“Later, my dear. Aramis, some more plates please? Louis, would you like some milk? Are you hungry?”

“May I have a biscuit, please? My stomach’s all funny.” Ana hugged him, while nodding at Athos.

“Of course, you may. Ana, would you like some wine, or something stronger?”

“Stronger. Sorry, I’m just....”

“No need to apologise.”

They quickly assembled food and drinks for mother and son, Athos pouring brandy for Ana with a deliberately heavy hand, Sylvie serving her some stew. Porthos gave Louis his milk and a plate of biscuits, making the boy laugh a little by pretending he wasn’t allowed to eat biscuits at supper, it was so unfair, and then trying to steal one from Louis.

D’Artagnan returned not long after. “I checked the car and found this.” He held out a small black plastic box. “GPS tracker.”

“Unsurprising,” Athos said. “Disable it, then come and join us again.”

“He...had a tracker on my car?” Ana said.

“Probably the least of it. He’ll know where you are now, but we’re ready for him.”

“That’s the plan,” Porthos said. “Anyone fu...tangles with us, they’ll get a nasty surprise.”

She stared at him so long, Aramis had to nudge her. “Eat,” he said gently.

She picked at her food, then took a long gulp of brandy, before bursting into tears. Aramis put his arm around her, and Sylvie put her hand on Ana’s arm.

Porthos did the same for Louis. “Hey, kiddo, why don’t we go into the living room with your biscuits. I think there might be a puppy in the house who wants to see you.”

“Estelle?”

“Could be?”

He led the boy out, to Aramis’s relief. Now Ana could talk freely. “What happened?”

She held her brandy in shaking hands. “It was all going so well. I was making supper. He had a glass of wine, and was relaxed, even happy. He seemed so much more like the man I married. So I mentioned the invitation from my brother, and casually suggested that since Sébastien and he don’t care for each other, that maybe I could go by myself for a couple of days, then come back. He...flipped. Like a switch going on. He started to scream at me, demanding to know why I wanted to go to Spain without him. I tried to tell him that it was for his benefit, but he hit me. Smashed me across the face, and I fell.”

Sylvie gasped quietly. Ana gulped more brandy. “Louis shouted at him, trying to protect me, but Sébastien picked him up by the hair and threatened to kill him. I got up and made him drop Louis, but then he put his hands around my throat, started to choke me. I grabbed for whatever I could reach on the kitchen counter, and found a knife. I slashed him across the face, cut him over his eye, and that made him let me go. I yelled at Louis to run, grabbed my handbag and fled to the car.”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was so frightened, I just wanted to get away as fast as I could and you were the only people I could think of to help.”

“Of course you had to come here,” Sylvie said.

“You did the right thing,” Aramis murmured.

“Yes, you did,” Athos said. “Do you want some ice for your face? Aramis, her neck?”

“May I look?” She nodded, and he checked. “Bruising there too. Can you breath all right?”

“Yes. It’s sore though.”

Athos rose and fetched two ice packs which Aramis settled against her throat and face. Sylvie helped her keep them in place.

“Do you think he’ll come tonight?” d’Artagnan asked Athos.

“Hard to know. He’ll be afraid that if he doesn’t get her back soon, she’ll go to the police, or leave the country. Depends on how badly he’s injured.” Athos looked at Ana. “There’s blood on your blouse. Yours or his?”

“Both.” She shook like a leaf under Aramis’s arm. “I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. Will he call the police about me?”

“Unlikely.”

“He boasted that he had friends in the force. Said he had arranged for you to be arrested, Aramis, and he could do it again.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Aramis said.

Elodie, carrying Marie-Cessette and a bag, and Juliette with another bag and the crossbow case, came in. Nichol was behind them. “Hello, Ana,” Elodie said. “I’m glad you’re here and not there.”

“Thank you.” Ana choked again and drank more brandy, before asking. “What’s going on?”

“Everyone will sleep in the house tonight. It’s safer,” Athos explained. “Ladies, if you’d like to dump your gear, Charles can mind the baby. Nichol, Porthos and Louis-Phillippe are in the living room with Estelle.”

“Good. I’m going to finish my supper.”

“Charles, Sylvie, look after her. I’m going to call Treville and my parents.”

“Who’s Treville?” Ana asked as Athos went out to the library.

“An army colonel with friends in the right place,” Aramis said. “Your husband may think he has friends in the police, but Treville has friends who are their bosses.”

“We should report what he did,” Sylvie said. “Look at her.”

“Time for that tomorrow,” d’Artagnan said. “Right now, we should stay here and keep the two of you safe.”

“He has a gun,” Ana said. “Maybe more than one.”

“Yes, we assumed that,” Aramis said. “We have six highly trained military personnel here, a woman who’s a crack shot with a crossbow, and another,” he smiled at Sylvie, “who just yesterday, hurled Nichol two metres across the courtyard by the force of her personality.”

“Sylvie’s the one to watch out for,” d’Artagnan said. She poked him in the side and grinned.

Ana smiled a little. Aramis ate his supper to encourage her, while the others finished their meals. If predictions came true, this could be a long night.

When he was done, and Juliette and Elodie had returned, he said, “I’m going to relieve Porthos. Ana, do you think Louis will want anything else to eat?”

“No, he’ll be fine. He’ll ask if he wants something more, but a dinner of treats won’t hurt him this once.”

In the living room, Aramis found Porthos lying on his stomach, watching Louis-Phillippe hold Estelle while trying to keep his food out of her reach and telling her very seriously that no, biscuits were very, very bad for little dogs.

“Yes, they are,” Aramis said. He sat on the floor by Porthos. “Want to go finish your meal?”

“May as well,” Porthos said, climbing to his feet. “Louis, do you want more milk?”

“No, thank you.”

“Louis, why don’t I hold Estelle while you eat your biscuit?”

“Okay.”

Aramis scooted closer and took the dog off him. Louis ate his biscuit with great attention, then put his arms out for Estelle again. The puppy went to him eagerly, and Louis hugged her like his life depended on it, his mouth turned down unhappily.

“Are you all right, Louis?”

“Aramis, Father hurt _Maman_. I tried to stop him but then he hurt me.” A tear ran down the boy’s cheek and into Estelle’s fur. The puppy whined a little and wriggled so she could lick his face.

“Yes, your _maman_ told me. You’re a very brave young man to try and help your mother.”

“ _Maman_ hurt him back. Will she get into trouble?”

“I don’t think so. She was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t like him. I don’t want to go back to that house. I want to go back to our old one in Barcelona. I liked that house.”

“ _Tal vez lo verá pronto_ ,” Aramis said.

“ _Me gustaria eso, mucho_ ,” Louis said, smiling.

“You remember your Spanish. That’s good.”

“I like to practice it. It reminds me of my friends there. If we went back to Spain, I could have a puppy. I could have two puppies.”

“Two! Do you think you could manage two?”

“Uh huh. Monsieur Nichol could teach me.”

“Yes, he could.”

The door opened. “Aramis?” Sylvie said. “Athos wants Ana and Louis to practice running into the safe room. You have two minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s a safe room?” Louis asked.

“It’s a special hiding place we have in case a bad man comes. So you and your _maman_ will practice running and hiding there tonight. A bad man might come, and there you will be completely safe. When Athos gives us the signal, you take my hand and we will run as fast as we can to the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay.” He looked down at Estelle. “She’ll come?”

“No, because puppies have another special place to hide. Don’t worry about her. I promise she’ll be okay.”

Louis nodded. “Aramis,” he whispered. “I think Father is a bad man. I’m scared of him.”

“Yes, I think he’s a bad man too. But he can’t hurt you here. There are all of us big strong people, and we know what to do.”

“I wish I was big and strong. I would kill him!”

Aramis hugged him. “No, you shouldn’t think that way. You’re smart. You don’t have to kill him to stop him.”

“I guess.”

In the kitchen, Athos shouted, “Go!”

“Now,” Aramis said, grabbing Louis’s hand. “Run!”

In the kitchen, Aramis passed Louis to Juliette, who ran with Elodie and the baby and Ana to the pantry. D’Artagnan was timing it all on his phone.

“Clear!” Juliette shouted.

“Fifty-eight seconds,” d’Artagnan announced.

“Good enough. Again,” Athos said.

Ana took Louis into the living room, and Athos gave them five minutes, before shouting “Go!” again. The second try went just as quickly.

“Well done,” d’Artagnan said to Louis, ruffling his hair.

“I will protect _Maman_ and Marie-Cessette, Charles.”

“I know you will, kiddo.”

Marie-Cessette started to grizzle. “I need to put her down,” Elodie said.

“Then the puppy had better go into the laundry to sleep,” Athos said. “Ana, should Louis go to bed too?”

“It’s a little early. I can read to him.”

“Use the library,” Aramis said. Athos nodded.

Half an hour later, the living room was set up for Elodie, Juliette and the baby, as well as for Ana and Louis-Phillippe when they were ready for bed. Fortunately Ana had taken to keeping a bag in her car with clothes and shoes and books for both of them, and Aramis gave them his iPad with some games on it to keep Louis amused.

The four brothers, Sylvie, and Nichol gathered in the kitchen. “Treville will wait either for a signal from us, or the server ping to be lost,” Athos said. “My father says that any of us can come to the house at any time. He has his shotgun at the ready.”

“If I was Sébastien Rochefort, I would think twice about taking us all on,” Aramis said.

“If you were Sébastien Rochefort, you wouldn’t be sitting here because I wouldn’t want to know you,” Athos said. “He’s a first-class shit, and I’m looking forward to extracting Ana from his clutches.”

“What happens tomorrow, supposing we survive the night?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Cheerful,” Sylvie murmured.

“Up to Ana. She might want protection to retrieve things from the house. She might want to fly to her family in Spain. She might want to stay here, though I’d advise against that until Rochefort is locked up. Let’s get through tonight first. I’ll take first watch.”

“I’ll sit with you,” Sylvie said.

“Me second,” Porthos said.

“I’ll sit with you,” Nichol said.

“So that just leaves you and me,” Aramis said to d’Artagnan who nodded. “I don’t suppose Juliette will sleep.”

“No, but she has the women and children to watch over,” Athos pointed out. He looked at the kitchen clock. “It’s eight o’clock. Everyone got their chosen weapons, and torches? Good. Sleep in clothes you’d be happy to run around outside in, even you, Sylvie, and shoes at the ready. You know your positions, and roles. Questions?”

No one put up a hand. “Very well. Let me invite you to go to bed early, and Porthos, Nichol, I’ll wake you at midnight. Aramis, Charles, you’ll take over at three am. I’ll give Ana another half hour and then ask her to take Louis to bed too. Good luck, my friends.”

“Here’s hoping for a quiet night,” d’Artagnan said.

“I dunno. I’m looking forward to kicking some arse.”

Athos raised an eyebrow at Porthos. “I understand the appeal, but we do have kids here.”

“Hey, it ain’t up to me. Just saying, if they’re gonna bring it, let ‘em.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Up in Aramis’s room, he and d’Artagnan changed into dark fatigues. “I wish we knew more about this man,” d’Artagnan said. “And what his connections are.”

“Does it matter? He can hire who he wants, when he wants. He’s already got police and private detectives working for him. He can hire security, mercenaries, whatever he needs.”

“But she doesn’t love him anymore. Why force her to stay?”

“If he can’t have her, no one else will. That’s how they think.”

“I will never understand that mentality.” D’Artagnan climbed into bed, and Aramis slid in next to him, put his arms around his brother.

“It’s surprisingly common. And all too commonly dangerous. He could have killed her, and Louis.”

“He won’t get a second chance,” d’Artagnan said.

“Yeah, he’d have to get through all of us first. And that’s not happening in this universe.”

***************************

Something woke Aramis, and he had his hand on the knife on the bedside table before he grabbed the phone to check the time. Eleven forty-five. He listened again. Yes, footsteps on the creaking hallway floorboards, and a faint bobbing light from a torch being kept dim.

“Aramis? Charles? Something’s happening.”

 _Sylvie._ He nudged d’Artagnan. “Things are moving.” But d’Artagnan was already getting out of bed and putting on his shoes.

“I’ll wake Nichol and Porthos. Go back down with Sylvie.”

Aramis shoved his feet into his shoes, picked up his belt that held his knife and torch, met her at the door. “The power’s gone out, but there was an alarm set off by the stable sensor just before that,” she whispered. “Athos is waking the others.”

“Okay.” He did up his shoes, and followed her downstairs.

Juliette and Elodie rushed past them at the base of the stairs, Elodie carrying Marie-Cessette, and Ana with Louis’s hand in hers. “Be safe,” Aramis whispered as they ran towards the pantry and the safe room.

D’Artagnan, Nichol and Porthos were right behind Aramis and Sylvie. “Everyone got their weapons? Right. Nichol, Sylvie, into your positions,” Athos said, and stole a quick kiss from Sylvie as she moved to obey. “Aramis, d’Artagnan, move out.”

The two of them went back up the stairs, d’Artagnan to climb out the back bedroom window onto the garage roof, Aramis at the other end of the house to take up position with his slingshot and a walkie-talkie to communicate with Nichol inside the house and Athos outside. Athos and Porthos went out the front door.

Aramis checked his phone signal—nothing. So they were using a phone blocker, as Athos thought they might. But that put the hostiles under the same disadvantage.

Visibility was low, cloud covering the moon in its last quarter, but Aramis had always had excellent night vision, and even more so now. He clicked the radio, and spoke in a whisper. “I see four, no, five men coming towards the house from stable direction.” He held up five fingers towards d’Artagnan, who gave him a thumbs up.

“Understood,” Athos whispered back.

He fired a ball bearing at the man at the back, who stopped in surprise, before Porthos slipped out of the shadows and belted him across the back of the head with a shovel. Athos had wanted them to use non-lethal methods, but that didn’t mean these boys wouldn’t end up hurt.

D’Artagnan, clearly realising he was of no use in his position, had jumped down silently and waited behind the water tank below Aramis. Aramis fired again, this time at the leader. Athos took him down, and d’Artagnan engaged another one. That left two, but Porthos smacked one, and the other was quickly on his knees, ready to be cuffed at ankle and wrist with heavy duty restraints.

But they hadn’t dealt with all of them, because from the front of the house came the sound of gunfire. Athos signalled up at Aramis to go, go! Aramis ran down the stairs, swung his torch around, and found three men on the floor, one of them with an arrow in his back. One of the others was semiconscious and groaning, the other was out completely.

“Anyone hurt?” Aramis snapped.

“Only them,” Elodie said, her crossbow at her side. Sylvie held a fire-extinguisher which had clearly been used because the unconscious man had a rime of ice on him. Nichol clutched the pipe which presumably explained at least one of the men on the ground.

“Is that it?” Nichol asked.

“Athos and the other are checking. Sylvie, go upstairs. Elodie, reload. Don’t let your guard down yet, and if the next person through the front door isn’t one of ours, shoot him.” The front door lock had been shot out. The blond man with the arrow had a pistol in his hand. Aramis stepped forward and kicked him over with his foot. The man had a dressing across his left eye. _Rochefort_.

“Cover me,” Aramis said to the other two.

He knelt and checked for breathing and a pulse, but Elodie had shot for the heart, and Rochefort was dead. Aramis looked for the man’s wallet, which confirmed his suspicions of the identity, then looked up at the others and shook his head. “He pointed his gun at Sylvie,” Elodie said, her voice only revealing the trace of a tremor.

“You did the right thing,” Nichol said, putting his arm around her, though remaining alert.

Aramis clicked the radio transmitter. “Athos, are we clear?”

“I think so. Sitrep?”

“One dead, two injured, all hostiles. One of them is Sébastien Rochefort. Everyone is safe in here.”

“Stay alert. We’re doing a perimeter check.”

They had to wait another nerve-wracking ten minutes before Athos and the other two came into the kitchen through the back door. “Stand down, everyone, it’s over.” They walked into the front hall, and Athos crouched to examine the hostiles, grunting in satisfaction when he saw Rocheport’s body. “Sylvie?”

“I’m here,” she said, coming down the stairs.

“Good girl. Fetch a sheet or something to cover up the body. Charles, run to my parents’ house and call SAMU for these idiots, and Porthos, see if you can find and disable that phone blocker. Nichol, would you please go with Juliette into the courtyard and stand guard over the prisoners. I’m going to see if I can find out where the power was disrupted, and turn the generator on.”

“Is it safe for Ana to come out?” Elodie asked as the others left.

“If she wants to, but make sure she takes the boy straight to the living room. Go with her if she does, okay? Aramis, you remain on guard in here.”

Aramis sat on the chair in the hall and watched the front door, while listening to what was happening in the back of the house. Sylvie came back with a sheet which she draped over Rocheport’s body. “What about the other two?”

“I can’t do anything in the dark,” Aramis said. “They can wait. Are you all right?”

She hugged herself. “It wasn’t much fun.”

He held out his arm and she came to him for a hug. “You were all magnificent.”

“Is it over?”

He nodded at the sheet covered body. “Yes, it is. At least for him.”

He heard a noise and turned to see Ana, Elodie and the children walk swiftly from the kitchen through to the living room. Aramis assumed he would see them again in the morning.

The power came on shortly after, and Athos returned, turning on the hall light. “They’d only tripped the main circuit breaker in the meter box, fortunately. I’ll take over if you want to check on the condition of those two. Sylvie, you could go to bed.”

“Not until you all do,” she said. “Aramis, what do you need?” she asked as he knelt by the injured men.

“Medical kit, though I can’t do much.” He turned the two men into the recovery position, but one of them might not wake up again. “Are any of the others injured?” he asked Athos.

“Go take a look.”

Athos’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Porthos? Good. Power’s back. Return to the house, please.” He put his phone away. “The jammer was in their vehicle. He turned it off.”

“Police?”

“Charles will have called them. Go check on the ones outside.”

Sylvie passed Aramis the medical kit as he went through the kitchen. “Stay with Athos, dear. I won’t be long.”

All of the captives were conscious, to his surprise, since Porthos had hit two of them very hard indeed. Aramis couldn’t guarantee they didn’t have brain damage but there was nothing he could do for them other than tell them to stay still. “Trying to escape could severely injure you,” he said, grinning nastily at Nichol and Juliette.

He walked into the kitchen, wondering when they would be able to go back to bed—the police and paramedics weren’t there yet and that was all bound to take ages—and found Ana there. “My dear, you should go back to bed.”

“Elodie say he’s dead. I want to see.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I need to, Aramis. Please.”

“All right. He’s out here.”

Athos stood when Ana walked into the hall. “She wants to see the body,” Aramis explained.

Athos frowned, but knelt beside the sheet-covered lump. “Don’t linger,” he warned. “And remember, anything that happened to him, he brought on himself.”

Ana nodded. Athos drew back the sheet and she stared at the man’s dead face without giving anything away. “That’s enough,” she said.

She stood, and Sylvie touched her arm. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“Aramis, Sylvie, you may as well brew up a pot. We’ll be some time,” Athos said.

Aramis put the kettle on. Ana sat at the table, her hands in her lap. Sylvie sat close to her. “Are you all right?” Sylvie asked.

“Yes. I don’t feel sad. I’m relieved. Anything I felt for him, he beat out of me weeks ago. Louis had come to hate him. Aramis, you were right. I should have left him long ago. I should never have married him.”

“You had your reasons,” Aramis said. “Now you can make a new life without him overshadowing everything you do.”

“I’ll be alone for the first time in ten years.”

Sylvie hugged her. “Not alone so long as we’re around.”

Ana smiled at her. “No, I’m really not.”

***************************

It was three am before the police left. The body and the injured and the non-injured hostiles had been removed long before that, but the police wanted to talk to everyone, including Ana, before they would agree that they could leave any further questions to the investigating magistrate, although it looked like a straightforward case of self-defence and no charges would be brought.

Porthos nailed a board across the front door and Athos locked up the back of the house again. “Now, to bed. Anyone older than Marie-Cessette who wakes me for a non-urgent reason before nine will be on my shit list,” he announced. “Ana, please feel free to raid the food supplies, and Louis can go where he wants outside, within reason. Just...quietly.”

“I understand,” she said. She walked up and took his hands. “Thank you. All of you.”

“You’re welcome. Sylvie, Charles?” The three of them went upstairs where, Aramis had no doubt, Athos would be cuddled to within an inch of his life.

Nichol took himself to bed, and Ana followed him. “Porthos? Ready to come to bed?”

“Nah, I thought I might go out clubbing.”

Aramis clapped him on the shoulder. “I almost believe you would. Come on.”

He slept right through his normal early rising time, until after eight. But then the inevitable sounds of small people being fed, or being shushed, or trying to be quiet, and of adults creeping around to look after him, were too much for his enhanced hearing. He didn’t get up though, relishing the feel of Porthos safe and warm and strong against him.

He dozed again, and to his shock found it was nearly ten when he awoke. Annoyingly, he was on his own. He found some drowsy people drinking coffee and picking at pastries. Louis and Marie-Cessette were nowhere to be seen, although their mothers were sitting at the table. D’Artagnan and Porthos were also out of sight.

He slumped into a chair. “Caffeine. Now. Please.”

A smirking Juliette shoved a cup into his hands, and Ana passed the croissants. “Thank you,” he said, inhaling his coffee. “Better. Sitrep?”

“Charles is checking the perimeter to make sure there are no little surprises left. Porthos is looking after Estelle and Louis-Phillippe,” Athos said.

“Good. Elodie? How did you sleep?”

“Well enough,” she said, with a frown at Juliette. “I feel I should be more upset than I am.”

“You saved my life,” Sylvie said. “I will never forget that.”

“You two could have handled it without me or Juliette,” Nichol said. “I’m impressed.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow. “Well, there’s high praise for you.” Elodie grinned.

“I’m very proud and grateful for every one of you,” Athos said, lifting his coffee cup in a toast. “You did exactly I asked, you stuck precisely to the mission plan, and we achieved what we needed to do with minimum force. Ana, I refuse to apologise for Rocheport’s death. The man needed killing.”

“Athos,” Aramis murmured.

“No,” Ana said. “He’s right. He came here with how many men, carrying a gun, maybe with other weapons. He didn’t care who was killed or injured as long as he got to me and Louis. I’m sure there was some deep psychological reason why he behaved that way, but he would never have stopped until one of us was dead. I’m glad it was him.”

“Will you go back to the house?” Aramis asked.

“Yes, for now. Louis-Phillippe is homesick for Barcelona, but if we go back at Christmas, I’ll talk to my brother again. At least I don’t have to disrupt his schooling, though I’ll keep him off this week, because there’s bound to be talk.”

“Stay here,” Aramis said. She stared in surprise. “Let him have a period of peace and happiness with no anger or violence. You need time to recover too.”

“This is a good place for that,” Nichol said.

“A very good place,” Juliette agreed.

“Would that be okay? You’ve already done so much.”

“My dear lady, you can stay as long as you want. Years if you like,” Athos said. “We adore your son, he seems to like us a fair amount, and you fit in very well.”

“I...I don’t know what to say,” she said, flushing. “But this week, yes. It will do Louis good, and if there are any press hanging about the house, we can avoid it.”

“If you need anything, we can retrieve it without you needing to brave it,” Athos said. “My parents have invited all of us to dinner tonight if we’re up to it. Would you like to go, Ana?”

“Me too? Yes, that’d be lovely.”

The week that followed was full of joy and as much fun as they could arrange for one small boy and his mother. While Ana had to spend some time handling the police legal necessities—though she adamantly refused to arrange a funeral for Rochefort unless his horrified elderly parents took it all on, which they didn’t want to—there was nothing stopping Louis-Phillippe spending all day, every day, immersing himself thoroughly in the farm routine, and charming every resident. Athos took him riding to meet his parents, and reported that the boy’s excellent manners had won Athos’s father over completely, while Ana’s good sense and refinement made a favourable impression on his mother.

To Aramis’s surprise, Nichol and Louis took to each other quite strongly, bonding not only over Estelle, but also over Louis’s fascination with the big man himself. And the attraction between Nichol and Ana showed no sign of abating, though with one of them still psychologically damaged, and the other in no fit state to contemplate any other relationship at the moment, Aramis rather thought nothing would happen there. At least, not soon. Not that he wouldn’t cheer like mad if it did.

The police intrusion was less than Athos feared, so he said. Ana’s injuries were even more lurid when she was interviewed two days later, and Rochefort’s chicanery over Aramis had now been exposed. With so many upright citizens to testify to the events of that night, and Athos’s family’s local reputation, there was little time given to any idea that Rochefort had been lured or set up or in any way tricked into making a brutal attack on a farm where there were two small children in residence, bearing firearms, and employing men of known criminality. Indeed, Athos and the others were thanked for their role in bringing those men into custody, since they had been sought for some time.

When the time came for Ana and Louis-Phillippe to go home because he had to return to school, his weren’t the only tears shed. Only the very firm promises from every adult there that he could visit any time his mother allowed, for as long as he wanted, allowed Ana to extract him without a fight. Ana was soundly kissed and hugged, and made to promise that she would come back _soon_ before she was permitted to leave, and if her face was as long as her son’s, her feelings were mirrors of what the rest of them felt.

In silence they watched the car drive away, every face solemn. Athos cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “Back to normality.”

“Define normality,” Juliette said.

“I can’t even see it from here,” Nichol said. Sylvie squeezed his arm and hung on to him in comfort.

“You’re doing all right,” Aramis said.

“Athos, we need another dog, and three more cats. Otherwise it’s going to be too quiet around here.”

Porthos grinned, but Athos shook his head. “Charles, no. I really mean it this time. _No_.”

“Besides, you don’t know when another child might pop up,” Elodie said, smirking at Juliette.

“You’re not,” Porthos said, staring at her in shock.

“No, not yet. And maybe not me. If Charles is feeling broody, maybe Sylvie might oblige.”

“Me?” Sylvie squeaked. “Hands off my womb.” Athos and d’Artagnan laughed.

“This is a discussion for another time,” Athos said firmly. “Possibly never.”

“Absolutely never,” Sylvie said, still horrified, though Aramis couldn’t help but notice the speculation in d’Artagnan’s eyes.

“I have supper to make,” Athos declared. “There’s tea and cake in the kitchen for anyone who feels like hanging around and making nuisances of themselves.”

“Translation from Athos to French: I’m feeling a little bereft and would like company but I’m too much of a proud pompous arse to ask for it.”

Athos raised an eyebrow at Aramis before stalking off. Sylvie and d’Artagnan grinned at Aramis and went off after Athos.

“With an invitation like that, how can I refuse?” Elodie said.

“I’m always up for annoying Athos,” Juliette said.

“Same here,” Aramis agreed.

“And I can’t stand to be alone anymore,” Nichol said, “because I’ve been ruined and made soft by so much sympathetic friendship.”

Aramis clapped his shoulder. “ _Courage, mon brave_. Cake it is.”

Estelle barked and ran after them. Because she might not have understood everything that happened that week, but one thing she did know—the kitchen was the source of very rare treats and abundant cuddles, and as far as she was concerned, those were the essence of life.

Aramis considered Estelle a very clever puppy _indeed_.


End file.
